Everything She Wants
by Anlynne
Summary: One night, one mistake, one deal, fourteen days to set it right.
1. Chapter 1

No Copyright Infringement Intended

Chapter One

Mr. and Ms.

Glowing fairy lights floated near the high ceiling, soft elegant piano music emitted from the stone walls, and a large plain fountain in the center flowed golden glitters in the water.

The atrium of the Ministry of Magic was nearly unrecognizable for the charity event, with the exception of the blocked lifts. The fireplaces lined at the sides were the only things that remained untouched. People danced in beautiful gowns and dress robes on a square lit among the shiny black tile.

Draco Malfoy tried to remember why he came to this thing. He donated a large pile of Galleons that gave him an invitation of thanks, but by doing that and showing up didn't mean people's opinions were going to change. He was still viewed as a Death Eater even if his and his family allegiances had changed last minute. They were excused on Potter's request, but not their reputations. That was ruined.

An elderly lady in a fur cloak gave him a nasty stare. Draco sneered back at her and moved on straightening his new black robe. No, no one's stances were going to ease, he shouldn't have been mad enough to expect them to.

On his way to the bar he stopped in his tracks. He saw her, looking over her shoulder, her cinnamon hair sweeping her shoulders, a light blush on her cheeks from the violent pink drink in her hand. His heart skipped.

Hermione Granger was beautiful as always. It wasn't because her hair was slicked straight, or that she had bothered by putting on makeup. She was gorgeous without it. Her curves, her smarts, everything about her had captivated him the moment they met on the Hogwarts train.

He saw her, but she didn't see him. She was looking for someone else, and since it was plain that none of her friends were with her it was a good guess that she was looking for one of them.

If he had any chance to talk with her he had it then. There wasn't Potter or Weasley to stop him then. There was no war or blood status. She was alone and so was he. Fate had given him a second chance. Finally, he had the opportunity he looked to for so long. To win her trust, friendship, possibly her love if he played his cards right.

Either way, she would be his, the way she was supposed to be from the beginning if it weren't for the circumstances like war and blood that got in their paths. He loved her, that he was certain of, and because of his love for her and for himself and his family, he wasn't about to risk their lives. Not for a relationship that was doomed before it began.

He was a Wizard but he read Romeo and Juliet. Two star-crossed lovers. It was romantic, sure, but he read the ending as well. They died. He would rather live without her, than die with her. Romeo and Juliet were selfish people, more selfish than even Draco was.

It was ridiculous that he would think that she would be his, but didn't it make much more sense? They were both smart and attractive. They both had strength. They have both lied and fought. They were both stubborn in nature. The only difference was how they used those aspects of themselves.

Draco walked onward to sit next to her, to do what he should have done in the first place. Only this time, it was to make up for everything he did wrong then. He would make Hermione feel the same way about him if it was the last thing he did, and he didn't care by which means he had to go through to achieve it.

***

Hermione Granger felt hot and ridiculous. She spent two hours straightening her naturally frizzy hair until it was sleek and shiny over her shoulders, her lips and eyes lightly shimmering and her body sheathed in a violet dress. She felt like crying. She felt alone and stood up sitting at the bar by herself, but Ron wouldn't do that, not without a good reason. And he better have a good reason.

What if something happened? Was he hurt? Did he get bad news from someone? No, no, he could take care of himself. After all, he just went to mysteriously pick something up, something that would have only taken ten minutes. In that inscrutable scenario how many things could go wrong?

Ron promised he'd be there. It was a charity ball after all, and they donated a large portion, the same as Harry and Ginny, but they weren't there, they never was. Harry preferred to be out of public's eye, he didn't want the praise. Instead he stayed at home with Ginny. She wished she had stayed home too.

As she ordered her second drink, a pink concoction, a body slid into the seat next to her. She paid the person no mind, she didn't even glance. She knew Ron's scent, wood polish with a dash of something she couldn't point out, she would recognize his vivid red hair anywhere. This man smelled of musk, and his hair was not red.

"Ms. Hermione Granger," a drawling voice asked to her left. "Or is it Mrs. Weasley now?"

Hermione turned her head slightly to see a lanky man with slicked back blond hair. His thin lips pulled up in a smirk, his nose wrinkling turning into the sneer she was all too familiar with.

"Mr. Draco Malfoy," she said casually taking a sip of her drink. "For your information, it's still Granger."

He snorted taking his drink from the bartender. "Weasley's slow, isn't he?"

Her cheeks burned. "Ron is a great man, I'm sure he has a good excuse!"

He snorted again. "If I were your boyfriend, I would have sent you word why I was late."

She twisted in her seat to face him straight on, examining him closer. His silky hair grew out a little past his brows, his features remaining just as pale and pointed as they were in their school days at Hogwarts. He hadn't changed all that much... But he had. What was once a cold superior exterior was thawed. She heard the war sobered him... She approached the thought with caution and took another sip. Oh how she wished Ron would hurry up. She taught him to use the mobile she gave him last Christmas. Funny how his father picked up on it faster than him.

"I thought you had more tact, Granger."

She realized that she was still staring at him, and immediately she dropped her gaze, blushing. "Sorry! I'm sorry... I... Um..."

"Admiring my physique," he finished boastfully.

This time she was the one to snort. "Not likely, Malfoy." She finished the rest of her drink in one gulp, the fire proceeding down her throat, her senses burning.

Malfoy's stormy eyes grazed her body lingering over her chest and legs. "Mmm..." He moaned.

"Where is your tact?"

"Never had one."

"Not surprised," she spat, turning in her seat once more to face the dancers. Among the twirlers she didn't recognize one face. she looked to her dainty watch. He was an hour late.

Malfoy slyly leaned closer. "What would your Weasley say if he caught us together?"

"Curse you."

He guffawed. "So you would be with me?"

"Never," she spat cruelly. "I have taste."

His smile slid. He reached over deliberately touching her silver necklace tracing his long finger down the chain to the teardrop sapphire. Though he wasn't touching her, chills ran up every surface of her body, her heart skipping several beats. Why was her body reacting this way to his closeness? Why wasn't she finding it revolting? She was revolted at herself, and leaned a bit away.

"You have taste in jewelry."

She gulped.

He brushed her lips a fiery tingling starting at the point of contact, and she thought randomly of biting him. Why didn't she? "You have taste in drinks."

"Stop it," she told him softly barely moving her touched lips.

Instantly, he did and she instantly regretted it. She missed his touch. What was she thinking? It was Mafloy! Changed or not he was still Malfoy!

"Your taste in men, however..." He nodded towards the fireplace ahead of them where a tall lanky man in a sweeping black robe exited.

"You disgust me," she said hopping off her seat to greet her boyfriend. Her faithful and loyal boyfriend whom she loved. However, as she waved to catch Ron's attention she felt Malfoy's eyes on her, and even worse... She liked it.

When Ron's gaze fell on her, he smiled, but it was strained, forced. She could tell, and she stopped up short.

"What's wrong," she asked, feet in front of him.

His smile then became genuine, and he grasped her arms leaning down and pecking her lips. "Nothing's wrong, Hermione. Really. Nothing."

Consoled by his honesty (he was a terrible liar) she shrugged out of his hold and hugged him around his neck, his large hands at her back. "Why are you late? I waited an hour for you. I was getting worried!"

"I'm sorry! I received an owl from Kingsley..."

She released him, crossing her arms over her chest thinking of his mobile. "You could have called!"

His ears turned red, and he nervously ran his hand over the back of his neck. "I still haven't figured out how to use that phonetelly -"

"Telephone," she corrected him harshly. She waved her hand in dismissive, her stance relaxing. There were more important things, such as what the Minister of Magic wanted with one of their best Aurors. Ron was the best, aside from Harry. "What did Kingsley want?"

His ears went from red to scarlet. Something was wrong, something in her gut told her so. She learned to listen to that inner voice that Harry relied so much on. He didn't know it, but she learned as much from him as he did from her.

"Ron?"

"Well, um, you see, there's, er, this thing..."

"What?"

He dropped his hand to his side, almost like he was admitting defeat. "I have to go to Egypt. There's a bunch of tomb raiders trying to learn ancient dark arts, and they need everyone on this. I have to go, Hermione. Tonight."

"Why tonight? Why last minute?"

"They didn't think it was a big job..." He leaned forward whispering in her ear though no one was paying attention, everyone immersed in their dancing. "One of the tombs exploded... Tonight it killed fifty innocent Muggles that were under the Imperius curse."

She shuddered in thought. "How long are you going to be gone?"

"At least a month..."

She inhaled a shaky breath, her heart bottoming out to the floor. "We haven't been apart since -"

"Since you went to get your parents," he finished for her. "I know... It was hard that first week away, remember? I was so used to you being beside me... When you got back we went straight out to find ourselves a house. Mum had a fit about us not being married..." He flinched at the thought of her shrill yelling.

She did remember that week, rectifying her parents memories and bringing them back from Australia. Though she was glad to be with her parents again, without Ron it was a constant ache in her chest. She wasn't used to being without him for any length of time, not used to sleeping without his snore. When she got her parents settled in their house she went right over to the Burrow. The house they bought within the month (despite Molly's harping which Ron had pointed out was due to their not being married) was small, one story but very cozy, the lounge filled with ever-lasting roses that Ron delivered each day for the first week he came back from the office.

"What about Harry? Is he going too?"

He nodded, "he's telling Ginny now."

She could only imagine Ron's sister's reaction. The war having separated her and Harry, they were still making up for lost time. "I'm going to miss you..."

"I know, love. I'll miss you too." He kissed her sending a fever through his lips to her own. Then she was lost as he broke away, ducking into the fireplace.

Her watered eyes reflected the emerald green of the flames that enveloped him. He was gone. Him and Harry. She would have to go over to Ginny's later to see how she was holding up, but that thought was distracted by a warm presence on her back.

She cursed and spun coming face to face with the bouncing ferret. She scowled as he smiled. When did he start smiling at her like that? Where was the old sneer?

"My, my, Granger, where did you learn such language? It's not becoming."

She rolled her eyes. Truth was that she picked up the bad habit from Ron. Instead, she said, "none of your business." Indeed, it wasn't any of his business. "Now, if you don't mind, I prefer to be alone."

"Then why come to the party?"

"I gave a donation and I thought my boyfriend would be able to join me."

"Yes, I saw him leave you," he glimpsed to the fireplace, "quite rude to leave you, especially looking as you do."

She chuckled without humor. "Like a beaver?"

"No, not at all. You look like a goddess."

"What is with you, Malfoy?"

He cocked his head to the side raising his brows. "Don't like compliments?"

"I don't like you."

Slapping a hand to his chest he said, "ouch. That was harsh. Are you trying to wound me?"

"Excuse me," she pardoned in the politest way she could. Yet as she brushed the back of her hand against his arm in attempt to nudge him to the side, he grabbed clasped his own around it.

"No, excuse me. For my atrocious behavior in the past and my horrid behavior tonight. Lets start over, shall we? My name is Draco Malfoy, it is nice to meet you." He kissed her knuckles.

Caught off guard, her breath stolen, she temporarily forgot to push him from her and forgot her name. "Um, Hermione Granger."

"You look lovely tonight, Hermione Granger, and mind me asking, but will you dance with me? I am rather alone tonight as you can see."

"Um -"

"You should not let that outfit or this evening go to waste. You came here to have a good time, did you not?"

"Ummm..." Was that the only word she knew? She slid her hand out of his. "I was just leaving."

His features lost all pretext then, becoming pained. "I am sorry, Granger. For everything. I can't take it back but at least let me try to make up for it. I can't, but let me try."

She would have never believed Malfoy would say such things if she wasn't staring at him just then. He was serious, desperate. His reputation had been ruined, he received criticism for who he was and what he stood for, but he had to change. The old Malfoy would never be caught dead standing there talking to someone beneath his status. "Why? Why now?"

"Why not now?"

She didn't have an answer to that. Wasn't it better late than never? Didn't he deserve a chance as much as anyone else?

"If you won't dance with me, let me buy you a drink." He jutted out his elbow for her to take.

She giggled at the gesture. Yes, he deserved a chance. She looped her arm through his, and he led her back to the bar.

"You may have a boyfriend, Granger, but tonight, I'm your date."

She winced at the word date, Ron's angry freckled face coming into her mind. "It's not a real date, Malfoy. And this is only tonight."

"We are both dressed up at a ball, you're date left, I'm here without one -"

"Why is that," she asked curiously.

"Because I'm comfortable enough with myself to be at the bar to silently make fun of the awful dancers. Don't interrupt. Where was I? Oh, and we're both attractive and smart. We look good together, don't you think? If we gave a try at dancing we'd put them all to shame."

She knew there was an insult in there somewhere, disguised as compliments. When they reached the bar she glared at him. "You don't think Ron and I look good together?"

"You two look fine - we look better."

Furiously she opened her mouth to protest, but Malfoy intervened quickly.

"What would you like to drink?"

"I was going to say something! I thought you said not to interrupt?"

"You weren't saying anything, and anything you were about to say was going to be a correction on my statement. You were quick, I was quicker. So I ask again, what would you like to drink?"

"Pink Lady," she said shortly. Perhaps if she did take a drink she wouldn't worry about Harry and Ron so much. They both proved that they could take care of themselves, but she wasn't used to being so far away from them, not since they were adults. It was comforting to know they were near. She didn't have that now.

"I'm sure," he responded with a wink and bent over the counter to give his orders to the balding man in a white robe.

As their drinks were set in front of them, he tugged her down on the leather seats. "Come, have fun." He pointed to a large woman in a bright yellow dress. "Is that the sun?"

She gasped, "Malfoy, that's rude!"

He thrust the glass in her hand. "Lighten up. Fun, remember? Or do you ever recall having such? What does Potter and Weasley do with you?"

"I keep them in line."

"That's what I was afraid of." He jerked his head at a man in plum. "Try him. Go on."

The man was dancing alone, getting wilder by each beat. From waving his hands in the air, and then -

She snorted in her drink. "Oh goodness! Did he just -"

"He did," answered Malfoy in hysterics, doubled over.

"That was crude!"

"Say it was funny, Granger."

She tried to keep a straight face, her lips in thin lines, but she couldn't, she burst out laughing. "It was funny," she admitted.

Two drinks later she agreed to joke on the dancers, and that she did ("he looks like a pineapple with a twitch"). Three drinks later she agreed to join him on the dance floor, and that she did (he was a fantastic dancer). Her fourth - fifth - or was it sixth? Her sixth drink later...

"Marry me, Granger."

She giggled (she was doing that a lot), "You don't want to marry me. I can be bossy and vindictive. I'm a right handful."

"Yeah, I love that about you." He pressed his lips to her ear. "Please, Granger, be a Malfoy. Take my name."

And that she did.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Mr. and Mrs.

With her hair in knots, her lipstick slightly smeared over her cheek, dark circles beneath her lids, she looked a mess. It was fascinating to Draco how beautiful Hermione remained even when she was in such a state. He knew that she would only become more-so when she cleaned up. She would be enraged, yelling at him, maybe she would hit him again, and even then, she would be beautiful.

As gentle as he could be, he slid a strand of hair from over her eyes. He wished that she would wake up and be _happy_ to see him, but he knew better. She had been drunk and she wouldn't remember anything. Not the small Church on the outskirts of the city they married at, not the fierce kiss he gave her when she said "I do." She wouldn't recall any of it, but he had the paper to prove it.

Anyone would wonder what he was thinking when he asked a uninhibited Hermione to marry him. Some would think it was insane and they would be right. He wasn't thinking clearly at all. All he thought was how much he would love to marry her, to have to stop calling her Granger as if he hadn't thought more of her than an acquaintance for nine years. He wanted her in so many ways, and he had the chance, he had to take it. Like sitting beside her, talking with her, and dancing with her. It was untouchable but reachable.

Draco knew he did wrong. He wished it could have come about another way, but if the only way to get Hermione to see how perfect they were together was to get her drunk and marry her then so be it. It was not as if he took advantage of her any other way. He wasn't a total arse. He did have respect for her, and he respected her by refraining from touching her as much as could be allowed while he undressed her and put her in the shirt he wore under his robe. She had looked uncomfortable...

Twisted, the buttons straining from her rustled movements, she looked undeniably sexy. It was taking every bit of control not to touch her, not to kiss her. She was nearly irresistible, and if he was her husband by her knowledge he wouldn't stop himself. It was too bad she wouldn't remember. It was too bad that Weasley didn't beat him to the punch.

He couldn't help but wonder, why did Weasley take so long? If Draco was in his place he would've secured her hand the moment the war ended. He wouldn't have wasted time. Hadn't he learned anything from the war? Anything could happen, time wasn't to be squandered, as he had distinctly proved by marrying Hermione.

Married to Hermione. Those were three exquisite words to think. He imagined how they would taste, but he wouldn't wake her. She needed sleep for the fight she was going to give him when she woke.

Her eyelids fluttered, and he froze bracing himself. _Here we go_, he thought joyfully.

***

A monster clawed at Hermione's skull threatening to break out. She thought her head was going to explode. She thought it would equal a nuclear bomb as she tried to remember last night. How many drinks had she had? Why did she dream that Ron left her to go to Egypt? Why did she dream of Malfoy? Worse than that, she dreamed she had married Malfoy!

She rolled out of bed wondering for a second if she was going to puke. She didn't, but she kept her eyes closed, the sun slicing through her lids. If she was asleep in her bed, wasn't the sun facing the wrong way? Her window wasn't there.

She walked ahead her hand out feeling for the door. Roughly she was met with the wall, her wrist twisting. "Ugh," she groaned, stumbling back clutching her hand. There was supposed to be a door there. Was she facing the wrong way? Was part of her dream right, and Ron left, but it was Ginny who she met. She could've fetched her after the news and brought her to her house. That made perfect sense, better than what she did recall. She would never have married Malfoy, drunk or not.

"Oi," someone called from behind her. Not Ginny's, it was certainly a man's. That meant that Ginny didn't pick her up. It wasn't Ron's though. Whose voice was that? Who was catching her, dragging her back towards the bed?

"Ron," she asked hopefully. Maybe he had a cold? He was placing something in her hand. A small vial.

"Drink that." Since when did Ron speak with a drawl? Like... Like Malfoy?

She quickly downed whatever was in the vial. It tasted like rotten oranges, but it cleared her head, the monster gone. She opened her eyes, her brain registering what she was seeing.

"CRAP!" She jumped off the bed. "CRAP! This CAN'T be happening! No, no, no, no." She pressed her fists to the sides of her head. She looked back at the wide-eyed Malfoy sitting on, not her bed, but an unfamiliar one with pastel flowers, one that looked like a bed of a hotel. "DAMN to bloody hell!"

"Attractive words, Hermione," he said. It startled her, she never heard him use her first name like that. "Your boys have clearly been a bad influence on you."

It was awful that the first question she asked happened to be that of names. "Since when do you use my first name?"

"Since we got married. I can't very well call you Granger now, can I?"

That was a dream. That had to be a dream. "Yes, you can, we're not married!"

He frowned. He looked... Sad. Why was he sad? "You really did drink a lot, didn't you? Explains the excessive giggling and fumbling. It also explains why you passed out the moment we got here."

"So... So we didn't?" _Please say no_, she thought. _Tell me I didn't sleep with him._

"No, do I look all that happy?"

He didn't. She shook her head.

"Then I clearly didn't bed you."

"But we can't be married! I wouldn't do such a thing! That isn't me!"

"Not everyone's themselves when they're drunk. When I'm drunk, I'm an exceptionally handsome fellow whose egoistical."

She glowered. "You _are_ egotistical."

"And handsome?"

She refused to answer that. "We AREN'T married!"

"You're not going to believe this, are you?" Frustrated, he sighed, and pulled out the drawer to the bedside table. He withdrew a paper and handed it to her.

She read it. It was a marriage license. His handwriting and hers, his graceful, hers an uncharacteristically messy scrawl. He must have found it when he woke and realized what happened.

They were married. They were legally bound. This time, she was sick.

She dropped the paper that declared her ruined life and rushed to the bathroom where she emptied the contents of her stomach in the toilet. There was a shooting pain in her knees where they collided with the floor, but that was nothing compared to what she was feeling, what was making her sick.

She was married to Malfoy! It was right there on the paper. She was married, bound to him for life. Or was she? It could be a Muggle marriage and those weren't binding. She could divorce! Even better she could get an annulment, and no one would be the wiser. No one would have to know that she married him!

Shakily Hermione stood up. She grabbed the wrapped toothbrush squeezed blue toothpaste over the bristles and began to furiously brush as if it could clean the wrong she done. She spit it out, wiped her mouth on her long sleeve which she took notice to then. She wasn't wearing her dress. She was wearing an over-sized white shirt. Malfoy's. She swore she was going to be sick again.

She caught her reflection in the mirror above the tap. She looked wild, her hair in knots, her eyes glimmering dangerously. She looked like a mad-woman.

He appeared in the doorway then, as solemn as before.

"Where did this come from?" She pulled at the collar.

"You looked uncomfortable in your dress -"

"You undressed me?!" She could feel the heated blush creep up her neck to her face.

"We're married. Is it that bad, to be married to me?"

"I have a boyfriend!" She teared up thinking of what Ron would say. He would never forgive her and she couldn't blame him. More than that, Harry wouldn't forgive her. Malfoy was their enemy, all of theirs. She would lose all of her friends.

"You have a husband," he corrected gently.

"Not much longer! We'll get it annulled!"

"What is that?"

"It wasn't a Wizarding marriage, was it?"

"No but -"

"We can have it annulled!" Jubilation filled her. "It'll be easy! We have reason to! We haven't consummated our marriage! YES!"

He appeared completely confused. "What is this thing?"

"In Muggle terms it means that our marriage is void. It'll be like it never happened!"

"But it DID happen!"

She felt like someone punched her in the stomach. She was winded by the pain on his face. Up until then she thought he was teasing her with his talk marriage like it was a good thing. "Malfoy, you can't _want_ to be married to me."

"I did ask you."

Another punch. "You remember?! _Clearly?_"

"I wasn't drunk. I remember everything."

It was an alternate universe. Things like this didn't happen. Not to her. Not to Malfoy. "Why," she asked shrilly. "Why would ask me that?"

"Because I wanted to marry you!"

"Why?!"

"Because you're Granger! You're smart and beautiful, and damn myself but I've been in love with you since our third year! Do you honestly think I'd let anyone live after they slapped me the way you did?"

"You hate me," she whispered. "You hated me. Y-you re-really did - do."

He seized her arm pulling her to the bed. He sat her on its edge and knelt between her legs looking up into her tearful eyes, but she wasn't look back. She was staring at her hands as if they held a time turner that would let her escape this horrible nightmare.

"When we first met, I didn't know you were Muggle-born. That's why I was polite when you asked if I'd seen a toad. I didn't know. Then you started hanging out with Potter and Weasley, and... I hated you for that. Then I overheard someone saying you were Muggle-born. I hated you even more. I hated that I couldn't tell the difference in you. I hated that I had to hate you. In my eyes, Hermione, you've never been inferior. Always superior."

Tears now streaked down her red cheeks. She was a beat from hyperventilating. "I have to go home. We have to get this annulled. This isn't right."

"I don't want this marriage annulled."

"This isn't up to you!" She finally looked into his eyes, stormy gray. She hadn't realized how soft they were before. "I need this marriage to be over, _before_ Ron and Harry come back."

His brows furrowed. "They're gone?"

"They went to Egypt. We have at least a month to sign those papers."

"I'm not signing anything, Hermione."

"Stop calling me by my given name!"

"I'm not signing anything, Malfoy!"

She screamed leaping to her feet and throwing him on his backside. "I don't need your signature to end this! I can do it without you, you know!"

His jaw tensed and twitched. "What is it you want?"

"Are you deaf? An annulment!"

"What else? Money? Land?"

If she hadn't foolishly left her wand in her purse which was out of reach on the nightstand she would've cursed him. "Are you trying to buy me?!"

"Bribery would be the appropriate term."

"I can't be bought -"

"Bribed."

"The only thing I want from you, Malfoy, is for you to go along with this without a fight!"

"That isn't going to happen," he muttered.

"What?"

"A deal. I want a deal. You stay married to me for two weeks, and if you still don't love me, then I'll do whatever it is you want. I'll sign the bloody papers if that's what makes you happy. You can have whatever it is you desire. All I'm asking for is two weeks. I'm not even asking for you to sleep with me."

Slowly she sat down. Two weeks being married to Malfoy, of being a Malfoy? She could handle that. His compliance would make the legal change so much easier.

What was she doing? Was she contemplating staying married to Malfoy? She was. It wasn't a bad idea. It was only two weeks. She could do that. No one would know.

"I have some rules..."

He smiled leaning back on his elbows. "Please, go on."

"No sex, no kissing, we're not sleeping in the same room, we're not telling anyone, and today counts as day one."

His smile grew and he bounced to his feet. "Deal," he declared bending so fast that she couldn't stop him from kissing her cheek, and with the tingle it left she didn't know if she wanted to. "Show me where you live?"

"Why not your place?"

"I haven't moved out of the Manor. Why would I? I have a whole floor to myself. But I suspect you wouldn't be comfortable there."

He was right. Especially what happened last time she was there (the only time), she was tortured by his aunt in their drawing room while Harry and Ron were locked in the basement. "I won't be."

"Then yours it is." He held out his hand, pale and smooth. She took it getting a dreaded sense that she had just made a huge mistake not only by marrying him, but by agreeing to a deal of two weeks together.

If Harry and Ron ever found out she would lose them forever. And for what in return? An easy route to separation from their school bully? Was it really that worth it?

Malfoy tugged her to her feet. With his free hand he swept her hair from her cheek. "I'll show you."

"Show me what?"

"That I'll be the best husband you could want."

"You're in a losing battle."

"That's what each side thinks, but lets say that I do lose this battle. I have the war."

"You lost the last one," she reminded him, happy to see him blanch at the memory of the Second Wizard War.

"Then I'm due to win this one."

She realized that they were still holding hands, and she retracted hers. She clenched it keeping the warmth. "When you lose this battle, you lose the war."

"How do you figure?"

"How do you not?"

"In thirteen days, if you decide you don't want me, then I'll sign the papers. But when you go back to your precious Weasley you might see that I was better. You'll come back."

"I won't. I love Ron."

"But he's not here. I am."

"That doesn't mean I'll settle!"

"I hate to be the one to tell you this, _honey_, but you did when you married me."

"I hate to be the one to tell you this, _ferret_, but I was drunk."

His face came within inches of hers, a smirk playing on his lips. "You weren't drunk enough that you couldn't walk down that aisle, not drunk enough to repeat the vows given to you. Not drunk enough to kiss me! There is some part of you then that wants me. You said yes!"

"Yet I was drunk enough not to remember any of it," she countered.

"You'll love me."

"I hate you!"

"Always what a man wants to hear from their wife. You see, we're already acting as though we've been married for ages."

"You're infuriating!"

"You're a pain in the arse, but I do love you. In time you'll see that."

She doubted that very much, but it was certain that whatever he felt for her, it wasn't hate. There wasn't a motive. There was nothing Malfoy could want from her, he had more money, everything he could want. Then was it possible? Did he love her?

"Lets go home."

Home... To the very one her and Ron shared. She raced to the bathroom to throw up a second time.

It was decided. She would never drink again in her life.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Finders Keepers

_Hermione expected Draco to scoff at her quaint home, not smile and nod in approval. However, he did scoff at the seven red roses scattered in mismatched vases in her lounge._

_"Why not put them all in one vase," he asked._

_"Everyday for a week when Ron came home he brought a rose. A new day, a new rose, and each deserve their own vase."_

_He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the idea. "And he suddenly stopped?"_

_"We were running out of vases."_

_"Get new ones."_

_"We'd run out of room."_

_He shook his head in wonderment, but she took that as defeat. "Show me my room, Mrs. Malfoy."_

_She grumbled as she went to the short hallway. She opened the door to her left across from her and Ron's. She pointed him in._

_He looked around. "A beach theme?"_

_"I like the beach."_

_He shrugged peering at the still photographs on the wall of sand and oceans. Pinned on the walls beside them were seashells she had collected in Australia. The bedspread was beige, the pillow light blue. Everything else was white._

_She didn't know what possessed to ask, but she did. "Do you like the beach?"_

_"Hate it. Too grainy, too salty, too loud."_

_Behind his back, she grinned. She couldn't imagine Malfoy at the beach. He would stick out like a Muggle in Diagon Alley._

_"Goodnight, Malfoy."_

_He faced her, disappointed. "Yes, I suppose it's late... We slept in... Goodnight, Hermione."_

Hermione didn't want to open her eyes. She didn't want to move for twelve more days, but already her stomach was growling. She couldn't survive without food. She would have to open her eyes, and so she did seeing the ceiling. She rolled to her left and buried her face into Ron's pillow inhaling his scent. The aching increased, and reluctantly she pulled away.

She turned on her right side and saw a tray on her nightstand, the photo Harry took of her and Ron wrapped in each other's arms at the Burrow face down. There was a tray that held a bowl of cereal, a banana, and a glass of orange juice. Propped against the tall glass was a note.

_My Dear Wife,_

_Gone to work._ _Eat and have a good day. I'm getting the next twelve days off for our "honeymoon."_

_Love, Your Husband_

She had her wand beside her and she still couldn't curse him. "Stupid ferret," she spat throwing the letter aside, it flipping off of the nightstand and floating to the floor. Pulling the tray towards her she grabbed the spoon and started attacking her cereal. "Stupid, arrogant, snobby, ferret." She hated that he was being so nice.

"Hermione?"

She dropped her fork at the sound of Ginny's voice trailing down the hallway. "Coming!" She leapt out of bed and slammed the door behind her. She couldn't let her spot Malfoy's note or breakfast.

At the end of the hallway stood Ron's younger sister. She had the same bright red hair as her brother, but had the short stature of her other brother George. She grinned as she saw her, remembering Ron, her would-be family.

"Hermione! They're gone! Can you believe it!" Ginny was frowning deeply, creases in her forehead.

Hermione's initial smile faded. "I'm sure they'll be okay, Ginny. They know what they're doing. They've faced worse."

"I just got him back though, and it's his birthday this month! It's not fair," she moaned leaning against the wall. She then narrowed her eyes at her. "Why were you smiling?"

She didn't know she was. "Happy to see you is all."

"I tried coming here when I heard. Tried the next day too. Where've you been?"

"Was at a wedding. Remember, my boss made me take two months off?" That was all true. She did go to a wedding (her own), and her boss did make her take time off. She had been working so hard that everyone in her department thought she was going to keel over at any time. Two months were for the vacation time she had skipped.

Ginny nodded absentmindedly. "How was the ball?"

"It was good..." She couldn't say more without it being a lie. She couldn't say, "oh, yeah, loads of fun, Ron left me there, then I got drunk, made fun of people with Malfoy, danced with him, and there was something else... Oh, yeah, I married him."

"That's nice," she said airily sounding almost like their friend Luna.

"That's it, Ginny! Come one, we're going out to get breakfast."

"I don't feel like going out."

"Then I'm cooking for you. You've got to cheer up. This doesn't suit you."

She huffed, "easy for you to say, you got to go along on the Horcrux hunt."

"Yes, I'm sure your boyfriend and brother were eager to put your life in danger."

"What about you?!"

"They needed me, I'm the brains of those two. Can't survive without me," she joked and winked making Ginny laugh. "That's it there, keep that up. Tell me, how's training going?"

While her friend talked of flying, pitching, catching, the moronic players on the Quidditch team, Hermione walked with her to the kitchen.

She was never much of a cook, but Hermione loved the kitchen. The turquoise and white. The island in the middle that was perfect use for a table.

"It was a foul!"

Hermione nodded taking pots out of the cabinets. She understood the rules of Quidditch enough to join in on the conversations, not that she liked it much. She tolerated it because of Harry and Ron, and when she became friend with Ginny it became even more helpful, especially since she was the only one out of the three that became a professional Quidditch player, a Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies.

Then Ginny broke off. "Ron sent you a letter."

Hermione dropped the pot on her bare foot, cursed, and spun holding her toe in her hand. "Ron?"

"Who else?"

Hermione let go of her foot and hopped towards the island where Ginny sat. She snatched it out of her hand, and ripped open the letter, forgetting about the pulsing pain in her foot. The brown barn owl perched beside the pile of mail hooted in offense.

_Hermione,_

_Arrived safely in Egypt. Harry and I are overseeing the case. We're going to get it done as soon as possible, and yes done well!_

_Hope to see you soon. Miss you. Love you._

_Ron_

_P.S. I assume Ginny's there. Tell her not to sulk, Harry sent her a letter too._

She sighed in relief. "They arrived safely."

"Oh good," Ginny breathed. "I haven't been able to sleep since they left."

Guilt washed over her. She bent her head so her hair would form a curtain over her face, hiding her emotions that were likely clear on her. "Harry sent you a letter."

Her face lit as she held up a second envelope. "He knew I'd be here!" She looked down and dropped the letter. "Whose this one from? It says it's from the department of Oblivators."

Hermione's heart stopped. She seized the envelope out of her hands. "I don't know. Perhaps it was mailed wrong."

Ginny scrutinized her dubiously. "Wizarding mail is never wrong, Hermione. That was sent to you purposefully. What is it?"

She sliced it open and with shaky hands read it.

_Thinking of you._

Ignoring Ginny's patient gaze she took a pen that she kept handy in far right drawer. She wrote beneath it.

_Not thinking of you. Don't send me any more mail._

"Here's a flower..." Ginny sniffed the pink carnation before twirling it between her fingers.

Furious, Hermione added to her note creating a few anger punctures through the parchment.

_And don't send me any more flowers!_

She folded it quickly before Ginny (who was bending forward) could peek, and placed it in the owl's beak. "I'll write Ron later."

"But who did you write _now_?"

Hermione picked the pot off the floor and set it on the hob. She spun the knob and started rummaging through the other cabinets for a measuring cup.

When it became obvious that she wasn't going to answer Ginny went on. "I know you wouldn't cheat on my brother."

If it was guilt she felt before, what she felt then was pure agony, a pulling of her insides. How many times could she be sick?

She knew what she did, but she never put a name to it. Ginny just had. She _cheated_ on Ron. Her! It wasn't even minor (if there was such a thing), she didn't kiss someone else, or even go on a date. She went ahead and got married! She had done the worst thing.

She couldn't lie to Ginny, and what reason was there to? Ginny was a talented actress, she would see right through it.

Hermione faced her and put on her best smile. "There's this man, he's an Oblivator. He's asked me out, but I told him I had a boyfriend. That's all. He still keeps a hope that I'll come around. Occasionally he'll send me things." She grimaced, "don't tell Ron, please, you know how jealous he gets."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course not." She laid the carnation beside the Daily Prophet. "What is he like?"

Hiding her head in the nearest cupboard searching for what she didn't know, she just couldn't let her scarlet cheeks be seen. "Handsome and charming." That he was...

"If you weren't with Ron?"

"Ginny!"

"They're not here!"

She chuckled. "If I were drunk, I'd marry him."

"But you just said -"

"He's annoying, persistent, and self-righteous."

"You won't give me a name?"

"I'm respecting his privacy," she explained.

"You are the worst one to have girl talk with."

"There's Luna."

"She's not stellar either," she said grumpily and Hermione laughed. Their friend was eccentric in more ways than one. Her dating stories were nothing short of comical. Not many men understood the way she thought, and honestly her friends didn't either, but she was loyal and had stuck with them for years fighting with them in the battles they faced.

"Hermione... Do you like him?"

She froze her hands on the measuring cup and the other on the knob of the tap. "Why do you ask?"

"Because you said something similar about Ron. Remember? You said he was an oblivious jerk."

"I love Ron."

"I know, but what about this guy?"

"I like him a lot." Curse her, she did. At the ball he was charming and funny and any past thoughts she had of him vanished. If in that short of time she developed feelings for him other than loathing, how could she survive twelve more days without loving him? "I love Ron," she mouthed to herself.

But she liked Malfoy more than she should.

***

Draco leaned back in his chair, his feet on top of his desk beside a stack of papers. One by one he read off the Muggle names and addresses at which needed to be dealt with. On his lap covered by a long clipboard he folded them in paper airplanes jutting them over his head. They flew out of the crack of the door to their intended destination, to his employees that would go to each place oblivating memories.

A brown owl flew in through the open window then landing softly on the toe of his boot. It hooted and dropped a folded piece of paper.

He flipped it open, read it, and laughed. Hermione was being more than difficult, but he knew it would take time. She wouldn't immediately fall into him, but she would later. He would have to have patience.

He re-folded it and placed it inside of the pocket of his robe. He waved his hand to shoo the owl away. The owl hooted angrily snapping his beak close to his fingers, but flew back out the window.

"Only a matter of time," he muttered. "You will be mine, Hermione."

Potter and Weasley had nine years with her. Potter settled with the Weaslette, and the Weasel who borrowed Hermione's heart was taking too long.

There was something to be said for finders keepers. Ron left her, Draco found her and Draco would keep her.

***

Time passed very quickly when one was engaged like Hermione was in her conversation with Ginny. Of course, Hermione kept her hands busy by cleaning. She did so the Muggle way like her parents taught her, taking no shortcuts. She dragged behind a bucket of soap and water loaded with several dishrags. She washed the walls in every room and brought out a mop to do the floors. Ginny grumbled about the pace several times, but mostly she kept to talking about anything and everything. Hermione didn't mind this as long as she was off the topic of her husband, better known as the anonymous admirer.

After they cleaned the kitchen, lounge, the two bedrooms, the bathroom and organized the study Hermione looked to her watch and saw that it was nearly dinnertime.

"How about you come to the Burrow with me? Mum and dad will be glad to see you."

She thought of Draco and what time he would be home. She also thought of Molly's food. Her mouth was watering and stomach grumbling. It was a win-win situation. "That sounds nice. Just let me change."

She left the study to her bedroom as Ginny went to the lounge to wait for her. She began pulling out drawers, and quickly undressing out of her dust covered nightgown and dressed in old jeans and an old shirt.

Taking a pen from her nightstand drawer she picked up the note that Malfoy left her that morning. Like with the last letter she wrote beneath him.

_Gone with Ginny. Don't wait up for me._

Suddenly she felt rude leaving him to fend for himself, but she had been presented with a perfect opportunity to put distance between them. She owed it to herself, and more importantly to Ron, to do it.

She wrote two more sentences.

_I'm sorry. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen._

Yes, that would do it. She threw it on the guest bed before she left with Ginny.

***

Nothing helped after a particular rough day at work than walking home. That and a long hot bath. Yet walking had its advantages. On the way to Hermione's house was a small stand full of everlasting flowers a Wizard owned. Draco stopped there on his way to an alleyway to apparate (in his credit he did walk most of the way).

Two dozen everlasting carnations. _Beat that, Weasel_, he thought viciously.

Two blocks down he ducked into the alleyway and apparated in Hermione's garden. The sun was setting and he expected her house to be glowing by the windows, but it was dark. She couldn't have already gone to bed, even Hermione wasn't that uptight.

He let himself in through the green door to the kitchen. As he had to light his wand to see around the island to the lounge he concluded that she couldn't be home.

He looked into her bedroom. She wasn't there. He looked into his bedroom. He almost walked back out, but saw a shadow on the bed.

It was his note that he left her that morning by her breakfast, but at the bottom was her handwriting. As he read it he felt his nerves fray. He ripped it in half, kicked the nearest wall and threw the flowers to the bed. He fell beside them.

Winning Hermione wasn't going to be as easy as he thought. His second day with her went wasted by separation. He already felt time slipping through his fingers.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Burning

Draco woke long before the sun. He may only have eleven days left but he was going to start putting every effort into his marriage. If he didn't he would surely lose her, and he wasn't about to let her go now that he had her.

The first task was to redecorate their home. There generally was nothing wrong with it. The white brick and green doors were welcoming. The lounge was cozy in its red hues. The bathroom was lavish, a large circular tub taking up most of its space and a large bay window over it. It was only the little things that needed improving.

He began in the lounge. Over the couch was a collage of pictures. There was some of Longbottom and that Loony girl and a small boy with green hair, but most of the photos were of her parents (she had her mother's hair and her father's figure he noted) and the Weasley's and Potter. A big happy family.

One among the many caught his attention. It looked to have been taken at the Weasley's household. At a very large table sat all eight red-heads, a Veela, that little boy, Potter, and Hermione. Weasel's arm was draped over the back of her chair touching her arm, she was laughing her hand on Potter's shoulder as the Weaslette leaned into him and shoved the back of that joker making faces.

It was the first to come down. He left a picture of her and her parents in front of a building that said, "Granger's Dentistry." To his chagrin but best intentions he left one of Longbottom, Loony, a few of the Weasley's, Potter, and her on the Hogwarts grounds after a Quidditch match, Potter holding the wriggling snitch, his arms around Hermione and the Weaslette. He left up the pictures of the boy as well.

The ones he did take down were the ones with her and Weasel. He felt disgusted by how many there seemed to be, and downright sick to his stomach when he saw a display of affection, like kissing her in a garden full of gnomes.

When he had the pictures stacked neatly on the couch he stepped back to survey his work. The collage wasn't much of a collage anymore, just a few scattered pictures, but in Draco's opinion it was loads easier on the eyes.

He took every rose out of its vase lying it with the pictures. He replaced them all with his pink carnations, dropping an extra one in three. It was looking better already.

Out of his pocket he got the Muggle pen and sticky notes he found in the study while he looked for something to write with and on. For what he had in mind he was better than parchment. He wrote twenty-five notes, and quickly placed them in random parts of the house for her to find. He then placed the Weasel's belongings in a conjured box and that he buried secretly beneath a loose floorboard in his room along with a letter.

Softly as he could he walked to her bedroom door. It was barely left open; he wasn't able to see through the small gap. He prodded it gently letting it swing the rest of the way to reveal her room.

He spotted a lump under the blankets on her bed. Her hair was sprawled over her pillow in cinnamon waves, and she made little intangible sounds through her still lips. She was just as lovely as the last time he spotted her sleeping four years ago.

Draco had been pulling books he needed from the shelf until he realized it was making a window into the next aisle where at a table sat a girl with wild hair. She was lying on her book, several others scattered about, her arms propping up her head. He didn't know how long he stood there and watched her slept, but his arms had become sore holding all of his books. When he was close to dropping them Weasel came into his make-shift window. He bent low over her, nudging her shoulder. Draco turned then, not bearing to witness more.

This time they were alone, and he did not feel like a peeping Tom for watching her sleep. She was his wife; he held the right to admire her as much as he wanted. He couldn't say why he enjoyed it so. She was peaceful and quiet, and even while she slept it looked like she was thinking. It was also the perfect way to observe her without her glaring at him. He could imagine that she loved him too.

When the light streamed through her window however, he left.

***

Hermione woke, groaned, and turned over to bury her face in her pillow. She had survived. She survived the Burrow.

Through her life she survived many things: Trolls, Baskalisks, Death Eaters, Voldemort, Nagini, a war, and yet at that moment she was most proud of surviving the Weasley's, her friends. She thought her guilt would eat her from the inside, out. She felt like she was burning at the stake, but for the sake of her loved ones she couldn't yell, or cry, or break down in any way.

She had always felt at home at the Weasley's. They were her family for all intents and purposes. She loved them dearly, but for the first time she felt like she no longer belonged. She cheated on Ron and with that came the betrayal of everyone she cared about.

At the table she was being burned alive, her family adding more fuel each time they asked her what was wrong. Eventually she had to excuse herself as she raced to the bathroom to throw up. She quickly brushed her teeth with her finger and came out only to endure Molly's excessive apologies about a possible rancid chicken. Hermione confessed to a cold and went home and straight to bed not seeing Malfoy and not caring.

As she crawled out of bed grabbing a random outfit from her organized drawer, she went to the bathroom for a shower wondering if Ron would understand. She doubted it. Even if she hadn't made that deal with Malfoy he would have expected her to heave more like... Her. He would never forgive her, and she didn't deserve it.

Blasting the water she stripped and stepped in. She let it scald her, her skin becoming red with irritation. Burning... Burning at the stake...

Forcing herself to not think of her horrible mistake she dried her hair and dressed. With more certainty and confidence she walked to the lounge, the tantalizing idea of curling up with a book grabbing hold, but abruptly the idea was gone as she stopped dead in the doorway.

Malfoy laid across the couch, his feet dangling off the end. His gaze was far away as he peered out the window. Then he looked to her smiling.

She wanted nothing more than to wipe his face clean, to curse him back to his Manor where he should have never left.

_How dare he_, she thought angrily. _How dare he touch our things!_

Sometime while she slept he took down ever picture of her and Ron in the collage they made, and all of the roses he had given her were replaced by carnations.

Malfoy's smile slipped. "I knew you'd be upset -"

"You think I'm upset," she squealed causing him to jump. "I'm furious! How dare you! How dare you touch our things!"

Calmly, he stood, sticking his hands in his front pockets. "You said it. Ours."

"Not you and me, you insufferable ferret! Ron and me! These are our things! You have no right to touch them! You don't belong here!"

He flinched and she did too, not knowing why. Any infliction on him should not be on her.

"You're my wife -"

"Will you stop saying that," she cried. "This marriage is a mistake."

"To you, not to me. While I'm your husband I don't want to see pictures of you kissing the Weasel."

"Then get an annulment!"

"I don't want an annulment! We had a deal, Hermione, I have eleven days."

"I want those pictures back! And the flowers!"

"They're packed and safely hidden. If you decide to annul this marriage then I'll give them back."

"My decision is made."

His smile returned. "Eleven days, my love. You gave me time. Please, go and eat. I have plans for us today."

Hermione had three choices. She could still curse him, or she could do as he suggested and eat, or she could do both. Her wand was in her belt as it normally was, she could feel it against her backside. She was willing to bet many Galleons that she had faster reflexes than him.

"You can sulk and be mad, Hermione, or you can relax and let the pieces fall."

"The pieces are your fault." Her life was together before the ball. She had a supporting family, a loving boyfriend. One mistake...

There was a flash in his eyes, his fingers twitching as if on instinct to draw his wand. "You got drunk. You said yes. You said I do."

"And you let me."

"How could I not when I wanted you for so long?"

"You would have had me and my friends dead years ago!"

"Not you."

"Your aunt tortured me while you watched!"

He flinched again and so did she. It was a very real stabbing pain in her chest. She regretted saying it.

"I told you I was sorry. I can only do so much. I have to make you see who I am. What I really am. Believe that, Hermione."

She waved her hands around the room as an example. "I can see that." Tears blurred him and she stomped to the kitchen before he could catch a good look.

She ignored the flower in the vase set in the middle of the island, ignored what was on the two plates. She recognized the taste as eggs once she had stabbed whatever and shoved it in her mouth. She took a drink. Orange juice. Hot food and cold beverage, set by spells. He thought of everything.

Out of her peripheral vision she saw him leaning on the door frame. She stabbed her eggs once more, but the anger was fading. She refused to admit she had been wrong about it all being his fault, because her pride simply wouldn't allow it, but it was her fault. She did drink, she did say yes, and she did marry him.

There was no other logical reason Malfoy wanted to be with her other than because he loved her. He never played fair as a child, how could she expect otherwise as an adult? She knew better than to trust him, and yet she drunk herself foolish with him. She was to blame, not Malfoy. She hated that.

"May I join you?"

Hermione glimpsed up and nodded. She kept her eyes down to her nearly empty plate as he sat across from her. Through her lashes she observed how his back was perfectly straight, napkin in his lap, smooth movements of refinement. She used to have such, but time with Ron and Harry loosened her rigid form. She knew Malfoy was less refined than he appeared. At school she saw him relax. He relaxed a lot actually.

It was a bad situation: Her and Malfoy married, living together while her boyfriend was out of the country.

She made a deal and she kept her promises. There was nothing to take it all back anyhow. Malfoy was being nice, and she only had eleven days left until everything returned to normal. Everything would be fine.

She knew she was reasoning with herself. She would do anything to dull the pain of her guilt. Perhaps in time it would be a distant ache. She could live with that, with this secret. After all, everyone had them. Hers was just a bit bigger than average.

There was no sense in not making the best out of a bad situation.

"What did you have planned, Malfoy?"

"I'd like you to meet my parents officially."

Lightly she set her fork down. Meeting Malfoy's parents? "That's um..." Was there another word for awkward? Inappropriate? "I don't think that's a good idea..."

"My parents have been aware of my affections for you for a long time now. They would never expect me to marry you publicly."

'They wouldn't expect you to marry me at all."

"No," he agreed, "they wouldn't, but they won't be too angry. Maybe a tad sad they weren't there. I only ask that you don't tell them you were intoxicated during it all."

"Do you think this is a good idea?"

"I'm close to my family. I want them to know. How about yours?"

Wood to the bonfire at the thought of telling her parents she married someone else behind Ron's back. They really liked Ron, they thought he was charming in the bumbling, clumsy way. They held nothing against him for their first meeting when he knocked over everyone's tea when he bumped into the table, for stepping on Crookshanks tail, and setting fire to the azaleas when he tried to show off his magic. They accepted his fifty-two apologies, and the two dozen flowers he sent.

"They love Ron," she said sadly.

Uncomfortably he shifted in his chair. "They'd love me too."

"Not after what we did..."

"So it's we now?"

She covered her face ashamed by the tears streaming down her cheeks, her shoulders shaking with her sobs. "It's all my fault," she blubbered.

Arms encircled her, and she didn't have the strength or the will to pull away. Needing some comfort she leaned on his chest, his hand in her hair. She felt the rumble in him as he spoke.

"It's not all your fault, love. I take the blame too. You weren't mine to take and I took you anyway. I'm selfish, Hermione, that remains a part of me, and I'm sorry for that. I don't want you to be upset. I just want to be the one to make you happy."

She choked burying her face further. He didn't have Ron's smell or his large hands, but if she kept her eyes closed and forget she could pretend. Pretend for a while, because soon she would meet Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy.

Despite that she was slowly burning at the stake she would make the best of a bad situation. If nothing else she could be friends with Malfoy. That could be possible. it was the only piece of her she could give him. The rest of her was ultimately Ron's.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

A Killing Sincerity

Nothing much had changed in the Manor since Hermione had been there last. At least she assumed because she could only remember one room, the drawing room she thought it was, and Malfoy didn't open those doors.

They stood in the dark lounge shaking the fireplace's soot from their shoulders and hair. It was not only dim, but dark in colors, the cherry wood panels and floors, and the couch and high-backed chairs were all black. It was gloomy with a few family photographs on the mantel.

"Mother and father are out visiting friends. They'll be here shortly. There's something I think you'll enjoy here."

"The library," she guessed, running her hand over the velvet couch.

He pursed his lips. "You wouldn't like our library."

She thought of the multitude of dark arts books they were bound to have. "No, I don't think so."

"I want to show you our greenhouse." He out his hand, it hovering in the space between them as she hesitated.

Wasn't she in enough trouble? Would creating an emotional bond with Malfoy be overkill for everyone involved? She was okay being his friend, but not okay with the touching him. It wouldn't be like touching Harry, she didn't get electricity from him. It was terrible of her to let Malfoy touch her to begin with.

On the other hand, her family wasn't going to find out. What would be the harm to feel that tingle his presence and touch gave her for the time she could enjoy it? It wouldn't mean much. It would mean something...

She slid her hand in his. The stake she was tied to was ironically gone replaced by chills that one did not receive from the cold. She looked to the floor at her trainers. They were beginning to wear at the soles she noticed, that is until her chin was captured in Malfoy's grasp. He didn't pull, he didn't need to. She looked up into his annoyingly smug face.

"I"m not going to kiss you or make love to you. We're doing nothing wrong in your books. Though I'd like to point out that even if we did do any of those things it wouldn't be wrong. We're married."

By technicality, he was right, but she continued to refuse to admit that aloud. He already had a big enough head.

She leaned out of his hold on her chin. "Show me the greenhouse, Malfoy."

"It would be my pleasure," he said brining their joint palms to kiss her knuckles.

Her stomach took flight and she inwardly cursed her betraying body. She tried clearing her head as he led her out of the lounge and through a hallway.

"Another point I want bring to your notice is that it would seem very odd if you called me by our family name in front of my parents."

That would be odd... "Will ferret do?"

"Funny, you're a barrel of laughs," he said sarcastically.

She smiled, and out of the corner of her eye she saw that he did too.

They stopped at the end of the hall in front of a plain door. Malfoy held the doorknob and said, "my mother's pride and joy," then he opened it.

She gasped, her free hand over her mouth. It was gorgeous. Breathtaking in every sense of the word.

Flowers of every type and every color were in circles waving out from the center, a sparkling fountain of intricate designs of swirls. Vines snaked up the sides of the glass and the glass roof where the sun shone in brightening the atmosphere considerably from the inside of the Manor.

Where she walked between the rows were stone tiles each engraved with a name and a hand print. Records of their family and it was not like the tapestry in the Black house. There were no scorch marks to suggest they'd been disowned. She crossed Nymphodora Tonks - Lupin and Teddy Lupin.

Her hand slid from Malfoy's as she inspected the flowers, finding a particular large one habiting a family of fairies. "This is amazing," she breathed. She never knew a room so entrancing could exist in the dark Manor. It was like finding the sun in a storm.

"Do you like it," he asked with a smile in his voice. He knew the answer, but she answered anyway.

"I love it. But..." She didn't know how to question him about the stones. She found that she didn't want to offend him and at the same time he seemed concerned.

"But what? What is it?"

"Why does your mum have a stone for everyone?"

He grinned. "She wanted a true record. My parents have not been prejudice for years, we've only followed Voldemort as long as we did because of fear. We found before the final battle that what we believed was wrong." He blanched. "What we saw..."

The things he must have witnessed... She didn't want to imagine. He was obviously still haunted by his side as much as she was from hers. The thing she saw...

She didn't know what came over her, but she crossed the space of the greenhouse and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I'm glad," she whispered in his ear, "that you don't hate."

He chuckled closing his arms around her waist. "I still hate, Hermione. For instance, I'd hate it if I lost you."

She stiffened in response, and he held her tighter as if afraid she'd move from him. Warning bells exploded in her head. She saw Ron's face, and she dropped her arms to her sides. Malfoy still didn't let go.

"I know you don't love me, but please say you don't hate me. Please, I need to hear it."

"I've never hated you, Malfoy."

"Draco," he reminded her.

"Draco," she sighed repeating after him. "After this, as much as I want to, I can't and won't hate you."

Finally he released her. His eyes bore into hers just as intensely as his hold. "Why is that?"

"Because I'm not you," she answered simply.

He looked pained and she opened her mouth to say sorry, feeling terrible for causing him distress, but then they heard a voice falling from down the hall.

"Draco," Mrs. Malfoy yelled. "Are you here?"

This time he took her hand without question. "Lets greet my parents."

The house was seemingly darker when they walked back in. The sunshine was gone, but she kept the memory and engraved names at the surface of her mind as proof the Malfoy's weren't all bad. There was some good, no need to be scared, or that was what she was silently telling herself. The fact remained that she married their only child, and as an only child herself she knew how protective parents could be.

Apparently sensing her nervousness he squeezed her hand. Another thing she wouldn't admit was how comforting his touch was. He was with her, and surely his parents wouldn't curse his wife?

They came into the lounge, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy turned in their direction having heard their approach. At the sight of Hermione Mr. Malfoy raised his brows surveying their clasped hands. Mrs. Malfoy looked tearful, her eyes wide and glistening.

The resemblance between them and their son was clear. Malfoy looked a lot like his dad, the same soft blond hair and gray eyes though his dad's hair was held back in a tight band, and Malfoy had the shape of his mother's eyes. He also had her gentleness, the elegance.

"Mother, father, I'd like to introduce you to Hermione. Malfoy. My wife."

Mrs. Malfoy clamped her thin hands over her round mouth. Mr. Malfoy's face hardened, his glare not moving from their hands.

Mrs. Malfoy dropped hers, a fierce expression coming over her. She pointed a finger at her son. "You got married," she screeched making her and Malfoy jump a foot back. "You didn't tell us!"

"It was last minute. We met at the ball and decided just then." Malfoy explained hurriedly like he would if he was explaining his way out of an execution.

"Without any thought to your family? Without any thought at all?!"

"Very last minute!"

"And it couldn't wait? It should have been done right. There should have been a large ceremony, a celebration."

"No, no celebrations!"

Mrs. Malfoy rounded on Hermione, and Hermione feared for her life like she hadn't since the war. "And you! Does your parents know? Did they get the privilege of an invitation?"

By the earthquake that was occurring inside of her she hopelessly doubted that she looked calm, but it was subsiding slightly for shock. She did not expect Mrs. Malfoy to be mad about not getting invited. Draco was right... Again like the insufferable ferret he was.

"Mrs. Malfoy, it really was last minute. No one was invited. My parents don't know, and I'm not prepared to tell them yet."

Mr. Malfoy clutched his wife's shoulder and the rage gradually dissipated from her features, her eyes fluttering closed before she opened them a calm over the commotion. "I'm terribly sorry, Hermione. I am glad my son has found a partnership in you. He's loved you for so long... Welcome to the family." She came forward and embraced her.

Hermione froze. Mrs. Malfoy was hugging her. She jump-started her heart in time to pat her back. "I'm sorry you couldn't be there," she lied.

"I am too," she said as she let go and glared at Malfoy before looking back to her. "I'm sorry for a lot of things," she told her meaningfully.

"We are," Mr. Malfoy agreed.

Hermione could see that they were sincere, haunted just as much as their son by the life they led. She gave a small smile, a reassurance. "I know. Thank you."

"No, thank you," Mrs Malfoy said. "I have a daughter now. Aw, Draco you did well, she's perfect." She put a hand to her cheek. "Beautiful and intelligent. Caring and strong. We're lucky."

There it was over again. She was burning at the stake, the lames of guilt eating her alive. "Thank you," she exhaled.

"Are you sure you don't want a celebration?"

"Yes," Malfoy spoke quickly. "While we adjust we'd like to keep this quiet. Just between us. No celebrations."

Mrs. Malfoy nodded. "If that's what you want, but you have to join us for dinner."

"Of course, mother. In a couple of weeks we'll have a proper wedding, everyone will be invited."

Hermione glowered at him, but Malfoy rested into Hermione, his nose brushing her jaw line. It was a feather touch that had her as frozen as when Mrs. Malfoy hugged her. He brushed up pressing his lips to her cheek. It wasn't until he straightened that she realized she wasn't breathing. Her eyes focused on his parents, both beaming at them.

Would she ever stop burning?

***

A lovely deep blush crept over Hermione's cheeks when Draco kissed her. He didn't think it would count. It wasn't on the lips. If he had his way about their marriage it would've been. Alas, his wife and her loyalty to her boyfriend.

"Hermione, dear, would you like to help me with dinner?"

Surprised flitted across her. "Oh, you no longer have houselves...?"

"They're all on vacation."

"Oh!" Surprised, one of the many times.

Draco was very much enjoying it. It was all points in his direction. The houselves were employees, given every benefit a respectable worker had. He recalled some organizations she tried to start in school, wanting the houselves to be freed. Naturally he thought it was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. Given time and war experiences he saw the purpose of it, too late and too deep to make a real change.

"Come, we'll get to know each other better," his mother said taking Hermione gently by the arm, dragging her past him to the kitchen.

Hermione looked over her shoulder at him, worry in creases along her forehead. He nodded encouragement before they disappeared beyond the door, his mother chattering away happily.

On cue his father's hand collided on his shoulder. "You disappointed your mother."

"I'm sorry."

"You'll make it up to her," he said as if it was not a big deal in any way releasing his shoulder. "I understand your urgency, Draco. You've pined after the girl since you met her. When you learned of her forgiveness you wanted to try your luck. You didn't want to give her up when the luck was in your favor."

He heard the tone, the carefulness of his words. "Are you saying she doesn't love me?"

"I'm hopeful. She has plenty of money. I know of no other reason why she would marry you."

"No," he said flatly. _No reason other than she was drunk,_ he thought bitterly.

A contemplative silence filled the room. His father broke it. "A woman like that deserves a wedding band."

He gnashed his teeth. "Are you thinking about grandmother Malfoy's wedding ring? What about the curse?"

To ensure that there would be no impure blood his many greats grandfather placed a curse on it. If any Muggle-born wore it they would immediately suffer a long and painful death.

"Your mother and I lifted that curse. She'll be fine wearing it."

Draco smiled imagining his family ring on Hermione's finger. "That's a great idea, father. Fetch grandfather's band for me too?"

***

Aside from the lit glass chandelier above the thick oak table, the cloth napkins, and hand-painted fine dishes, dinner at the Malfoy's was not like she pictured. Instead of a meal conversing about politics between dead silences, there was lively chatter about their day. They were a normal, happy family.

Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy asked about her job, how she was liking it, her family, her friends, and so on. They asked their son how his job was coming along, how the ball they attended was. All were answered just as politely as they were asked, and in Hermione's case hurriedly.

She tried to hide it, but she wanted out of there as was possible. She assumed she was hiding it okay, because no one looked uncomfortable or offended.

Mrs. Malfoy didn't help this problem when she questioned her about children at which Hermione began chocking on her drink, Malfoy patting her back.

Children! With Malfoy! Hermione was at a loss on how to respond, so she said to give it a couple of years... Never would've been truthful, but Draco decided to outright lie with a playful yet serious gleam in his eye.

"I'm thinking a couple within the first few years!"

She could have throttled him. She would have if they weren't in his house with his parents. If only...

Full and satisfied she laid her napkin beside her clean plate softly laughing at a work joke Mr. Malfoy told. _It's over_ she told herself. She could go home and drown her worries into the ice cream Ron left in the back of the freezer. She could act like the night had never happened.

However, with horror she saw that Malfoy wasn't done yet, for he set a black satin box on her plate. He was quick, she barely caught a flash of his hand.

He grinned slyly at her as she picked it up with trembling fingers. She of course knew what it was before she opened the lid. It was obviously a ring. But that knowledge didn't stop her mouth from parting, her admiration of it.

It was a silver, etched patterns of flowers. She traced her finger over the smooth reflection.

"It's been in my family for generations. So has this," he opened his fist showing a larger silver band, etched in waves instead of flowers.

"I can't accept this," she whispered to him despairingly. His parents couldn't hear from their seats across from them, and she saw them bend over the table to hear what she was saying.

Malfoy ignored her taking the box and popping the band from its folds. He held her left hand in his and slid it on her ring finger, it magically shaping itself flawlessly to her size.

"Looks perfect on you," he said quietly.

Tears welled in her eyes. A drunken mistake didn't require wedding bands. Rings were a symbol of faithfulness and love. It was the wrong symbol for them. A bottle of Whiskey would have been more suited.

Malfoy put his own ring on and hugged her. She hid her face in his collarbone, as far as his parents were concerned she shaking with joy, not with remorse. She kept the tears in reminding herself that it wasn't forever. _Make the best of it_.

She pulled away and smiled. "Thank you. It's beautiful."

He ran his fingertips over her cheek swiping his thumb over the corner of her eye capturing a stray tear. "So are you."

Everything fell with that touch, only him in her sights. His eyes like a winter morning, the soft planes of his face, a light stubble that she wouldn't have seen if they weren't so close. He was being completely sincere, and that sincerity was killing her, because curse her, she was liking Malfoy more and more. She was undeniable _attracted_ to him, body and mind.

She wondered hopelessly if she ever stood a chance against him.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Sweet Torture

The scorching July sun streamed through the lounge, Draco watching from his seat on the couch. He hadn't slept, hadn't moved since the night before. Hermione didn't so much as spared a glance at him when they arrived home. She mumbled about being tired and went off to bed early.

He knew he shouldn't take offense. He knew what he saw when he gave her the family heirloom. She was touched, but at the same time frightened. Why would she be scared of anything but falling in love with him? She was falling, even if she didn't know it, he did.

There was only one problem, and it was the one that kept him up all night. Would she allow herself to be with him? She was so stubborn, so righteous that she would very likely do the "right" thing and annul her marriage to him He couldn't let her decide that yet. She might think that she had her answer ready, but there was uncertainty the night before.

There had to be something he could do to earn some odds in his favor... He ran his fingers through his hair and stood. Anything that she desired would be written in a diary, right? Didn't every girl have one?

Sleepily he set off down the hallway to the study. Floor to ceiling shelves covered the walls and were all filled with books. As he started on the lower left side he noticed that they were ordered according to title and genre. Leave it to Hermione...

Four shelves later he figured it wouldn't be out in the open. Hermione would leave it under impossibly difficult spells. There had to be something though...

Draco went to the desk set against the large arched window. He flung the drapes closed blocking the sunshine and sat in the swiveled chair. He pulled out all the drawers on the left. Parchments, quills, inks, documents, pens, and other useless things. He was getting irritated by the time he opened the last drawer, the bottom one on the right. There by itself was a stack of folded papers neatly tied together in a scarlet bow.

He pulled them out, untied it, and began reading the exchanged letters between his wife and the Weasel a year ago during her stay in Australia.

_Ron,  
I arrived safely. It's rather late now; I'm going to start my search tomorrow. If it gets too difficult I'll enlist the help of the Ministry here._

_I miss you terribly. I wish you could have come, but you have your Auror duties. We'll be together soon. I don't think it'll take me long to find my parents._

_With Love, Hermione_

_Hermione,_

_Glad to hear you got there all right. I miss you too. Can't wait to have you back here. I'm sorry it took us this long to be together. If I hadn't been a git for all those years..._

_I reckon Harry's going to pop the question to Ginny anytime now. He says he's just waiting for things to settle down. I also reckon he's stalling for you to come back so we can have a celebration right afterwards._

_Ron_

_Ron,_

_You didn't tell Ginny, did you? You shouldn't, she should be surprised. Don't ruin it for them._

_I'm very close to finding mum and dad, and without the help of the Ministry. It wasn't hard really. They are very popular dentists here in Sydney. They have one of the largest buildings. It sure beats the small family one they had in England._

_With Love, Hermione_

_Hermione,_

_No, I didn't tell them! Jeez, you have no faith in me! How could you think that I would ruin it for them? You think you know everything, don't you?_

_Ron_

_P.S. You aren't thinking of staying there, are you?_

_Ron,_

_I do too have faith in you, but I bet that Harry told you that in secret and you told George, Bill, Charlie, Percy, and your dad!_

_Hermione_

_P.S. No I'm not staying! How can you be so infuriating!_

_Hermione,_

_Leave my brothers and dad out of this! They don't count -_

Draco stopped there. All of that was useless in his case though he did find the remark about Weasel being infuriating quite satisfying. Maybe every man infuriated her. Every man that loved her that is, but damn, if they bickered like that all the time it was a wonder Potter didn't just do himself in. Or find new friends.

He refolded the letters, retied them, and put them back into the drawer. With a sharp snap he closed it.

Rubbing his tired face he thought of the comfy bed in his room. Then, just as he was standing he halted, his hands flat on the desk. Right there in front of him was the answer.

A picture of an orange tabby cat. It was an ugly thing with a squashed face and mangy fur. In the picture Hermione had a long string of yarn snaking it over the floor of the Gryffindor common room. The cat was pouncing after it, its tail high in the air. Hermione was smiling.

***

Hermione showered, brushed her teeth, dressed, and made her way to the kitchen, the whole time fiddling with the ring on her left hand. It felt out of place, but not unpleasant. However, that was what made it unpleasant. Because it wasn't.

Through her morning duties she half-expected to see Malfoy somewhere, or at least hear him, but she stopped in the kitchen not making it to the cabinets realizing that he wasn't there. She revisited all of the rooms in the small house, but he really wasn't there. Not in the kitchen, lounge, bedroom, bathroom, study, or garden. She doubled check, but it was clear. He was gone without a note. And she was worried without giving herself permission.

Where was he? Was he okay? Did he get angry and was finding a way to annul their marriage? Why were all these inquiries a kick in the gut to her?

She remembered the ball... His fuss about Weasley not giving her notice of his tardiness. He said if he was her boyfriend he would have. Did that apply if he was her husband? Of course it did. Then why wasn't there anything?

She rushed to her study and picked up the phone, but she paused, the receiver at her ear, her finger over the keypad. Who did she call? His parents didn't have Muggle devices. Did he have any friends? There was his mate Theodore Nott, a rabbit-looking man she hadn't seen in years. He was Pureblood and unlikely to have a phone either.

By all logic, she should've been glad to be rid of him. If that is indeed what happened. But she couldn't. After nine years of worrying about Harry, Ron, and their antics, she naturally worried about everything. But there was no denying her feelings weren't quite the same as when they were children. She had been enamored with Ron, not Malfoy. Malfoy was scum to her. Now he was her husband as much as she wished it was Ron. And she was worried. For Malfoy. Not Ron. Malfoy...

She had no way of contacting him directly. It would take a while, but if an owl was her last resort she would borrow the Weasley's as her and Ron's was with Ron.

She reached for the brown container of Floo Powder when suddenly the hearth burst into emerald life. She jumped back and Malfoy stepped through, brushing soot out of his hair with one hand, his other arm curled around a wicker basket, but all she saw was him.

Without any though to what she was doing she lunged at him. "Draco! You're all right," she exclaimed breathlessly.

He gasped and clutched her waist. "I'm fine. I'm fine."

"I thought you left!"

"Should've left a note. I didn't expect to be gone long..."

Coming to her senses she leap backwards putting space between them once more. "I was, um, worried." No need to lie to him anymore. She already made a fool of herself by hugging him.

He smirked. "You called me Draco."

Vehemently she shook her head. "I didn't." Did she?

"Yes, you did. When I came in."

"You must be mistaken."

"You need your head examined," he said, the grin not leaving him.

"I know what I said!"

"So do I!"

"You're impossible!"

"So are you!"

She huffed felling her warm cheeks. "Where were you anyhow?"

"When two people marry its customary to exchange gifts."

Her face was probably as red as a Weasley's head. "I - I didn't get you, er, a gift."

"Don't bother. I'm the man who has everything." He laid the basket in her arms.

Together they knelt on the floor, Hermione unlatching the small door on the front. She peered inside the darkness.

A small, orange kitten bounded out. Its left ear was missing, but it was the cutest kitten Hermione had ever seen and she scooped him up at once.

"Aw, Malfoy, he's adorable! Where did you find him?"

"In a shelter a ways from here."

She kissed the top of the kitten's head. "What's his name?"

"Doesn't have one. You should name him."

She thought of the hero's and heroines in her books. Then she looked to the man in front of her. "Drake. That way there won't be any confusion."_ And Ron will think its funny_, she added silently as she watched his reaction carefully.

Malfoy laughed and nodded reaching over to stroke Drake. "There won't be any confusion as long as you keep calling me Malfoy."

Hermione glimpsed down at Drake curled in her arms contently. "Thank you so much, Draco. I've really missed Crookshanks." She couldn't deny it, she liked the taste of his name on her tongue.

His hand moved from Drake to caress over her arm. "Anything to make you happy, love."

She shivered, but before he could ask her why she stood and said, "I'm going to introduce Drake to the rest of the house."

***

Draco looked on as Hermione moved from room to room with the kitten in her arms cooing to him along the way. It happened to be the sweetest thing he had seen. The light in her eyes, the affection, and the use of his first name was all worth it. If in ten days she decided she wanted an annulment then he would at least have the satisfaction of giving her the kitten that was named after him. It was something else he would hold on to, like the kisses and touches, he memorized each one.

Hermione appeared in the lounge in front of him, Drake meowing happily in her arms. He didn't know much about the kitten other than the reason he half-listened to about its ear. The kitten was flawed and he knew that she would love it for _that_. All the imperfections... All the more reason for her to love him.

"We're going outside, do you want to come?"  
She liked him. She couldn't hide that. "Would love to."

They went out to the garden (Draco counting points when he held open the door for her) where Hermione let Drake free, rumping around in the grass searching for bugs to bat. She watched this with joy, and he watched her with longing.

What was that Muggle saying? So close, so far? He was right beside her, but he could touch her or kiss her, not unless he was to face her wrath. He was vulnerable to the choices he lacked.

Then she did something unexpected. She raised herself on her toes and kissed his cheek. She took his hand into her own and smiled. "You were right... You are a good husband."

Draco was certain that he felt much like someone who had been walloped by a Bludger. He might have even been a little cross-eyed, there was the ringing in his ears, but the spell broke as she playfully chased after Drake.

He stared after her gingerly touching the place her lips pressed. He observed everything about her, the way her jeans hugged her hips, her white top riding up when she bent to pick up Drake, accidentally showing off her creamy skin. The skin he couldn't touch. There could be no sweeter torture.

He realized a second late that it begun to pour down raining. The sun was outshining the smoky gray clouds, but it didn't stop the rain. Somehow that was significant, but as Hermione began laughing and throwing her head back twirling in the middle of the garden, Drake pouncing around her, he forgot what it was. All he knew was that it was something about Hermione outshining him, always able to do that without trying, but he would never stop trying, he would rain on her life forever.

He ran forward his feet sliding in the mud and caught her around her waist pulling her against him off of her feet and spun her once. She giggled and he laughed. He took in her soaked hair dripping droplets on her already soaked shirt. A shirt in which he could clearly see through...

What happened next is something that Draco Malfoy would claim as an accident for the rest of his days.

Hermione slipped pulling him down by his neck, then he slipped as he tried to gather footing, and together they fell tumbling to the muddy earth. His first thought was worry that she'd been hurt. His second was how great she felt against him.

They were cheek to cheek, his hands on either side of her head, and when he heard her dulcet laugh in his ear he sighed in relief that she was all right, but that only left more room for his other thought. Suddenly he was breathing hard for another reason entirely.

Slowly he lifted his head, but just enough to gaze at her expression. She was confused, her eyes pulled taut, her lips set in a thin line. Her pink, wet lips...

He stared into her brown eyes. He had to keep his mind away from everything natural he wanted to do. He never thought being married would be frustrating in this way. It was ultimately unfair of her - a woman who normally stood for justice - to not allow the main pleasure of being married.

Her breath was ragged on his face. She smelled of fresh cinnamon toothpaste. Funny how each thing she did made it all the more difficult to refrain from kissing her, like the way her legs were on either side of his waist. If he kissed her, he wasn't sure he could stop. Therefore, he couldn't allow himself to do it.

"Draco..."

The use of his name sent a electrifying pulse through him and he closed his eyes. It was better if he didn't look at her. "Yes?"

"I like you."

He smirked, "what every husband wants to hear."

"I like you too much."

His eyes shot open. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"That I can easily fall for you."

"What's wrong about that?"

"I love Ron."

_Yep, that's a way to ruin the moment, to mention the boyfriend to the husband._ "How much do you love Ron? Enough that you'd let go of what we have?"

"We have nothing."

He clasped her head between his hands like vices keeping her eyes on him. He wasn't going to go easy on her. No one should. She was too strong to take an easy way out.

"We can have everything, Hermione. Unless you let yourself love me you'll never know if you love Weasel more than me! Don't you think this was meant to happen? You would never cheat, I know that - Weasel knows that, but you did. It was accident you say, but who are you to say it isn't fate? You don't drink, Hermione! You aren't the one to get drunk!"

Tears spilled over, blending with the rain. "I would've married anyone -"

"But you didn't! You married me! I don't believe for a second you'd marry anyone else. You were perfectly sober when you sat and talked with me. You liked me, you know you did. It wasn't the alcohol! You feel the charge between us, don't fucking deny _that_, Hermione! _Don't_ take the easy way out of this because you're scared of what will happen if you do. Don't think. Feel. Feel me. I'm right here."

Her fingers trembled as they moved over his cheek. _Please,_ he thought, _please, let her see I'm the perfect one for her..._

Then she stopped. "Let me go, Draco."

He had half a mind to keep her there under him until she saw reason. Instead he shakily got to his feet. He held out his hand for her, but she pushed it to the side, and stood herself shivering herself indoors, slamming the door behind her, Drake who'd been drying underneath the yellow awning followed her in.

Draco stood in the rain. He felt its erratic beat on him. He thought it would calm him, but it only angered him, her face in his mind. It's all he saw. Her body under his was all he felt.

He took out his wand and pointed it at the one tree on the property in front of him. He didn't know what kind it was, and it didn't matter. It burst into flames, and he turned it's back on it.

_Let the light burn it to the ground. Let the rain take it out. One will win in the end. We'll see._

He stormed into the house as lightening broke outside. He stood inside of the kitchen dripping a large pond around his feet. He was shaking, but not from the cold. It was with fury. Fury at her and her morals and her stubbornness. He thought he'd won, that the next ten days would be as easy as tormenting Potter about Dementors, no matter how childish it was.

Venom pumped through his veins. He wanted to strike, to poison. To give her the same amount of pain she was putting him through. He splashed his way to the lounge and down the hall, water trailing him like breadcrumbs.

He heard the muffled sound of the shower, but it was nearly drowned out by the roaring in his ears. He swung open the door with such force that it banged off the wall and tried to close, only Draco was in its way and he held it open.

The curtain flung open, Hermione's head popping out. "Draco! Get out of here!"

"Don't be so modest," he growled. "I've seen you naked. You have nothing to be ashamed of." Was that ever the truth. She had an amazing body, curves in the right places, smooth, and though not as pale as him, she had creamy skin.

"Get out!"

He came up to her, their faces much closer than for her comfort. She didn't recoil though, but she did tighten the curtain around her; red blushing cheeks, hair calmed in waves over her shoulders.

"Tell me something, Hermione. Do you really want me to go?"

"Yes!"

"You're thinking. Don't. Answer me again."

"We had a deal, Malfoy."

At the sound of his surname he mentally stumbled. They did have a deal. She was upholding hers, he should do the same, but since when did he do the right thing? He was known for overcoming obstacles. He would keep his side of the deal, but he wouldn't play fair. He never had, and he wouldn't start then, not when the very thing he wanted more than anything was right there in front of him.

Before she could say anything more he curled his hand to shape the back of her neck and kissed her forehead. He pressed hard, his teeth digging into his lips. He tried to put a lot of unsaid words into the action. Everything he wanted (her), and everything he wanted to do with her (which would remain unsaid).

Hermione's hands let go of the curtain and rested them on his chest. Not pushing, just resting. He laid his free hand over one of hers as he moved his lips to her temple and down to her jaw line, he traced it lightly, back and forth.

She gasped when he paused on her chin. He danced around her lips, not touching them, not breaking his promise, but he was close. One slip, one lap of judgment and he would be on them. It would be a strike, poison to them if he did. He didn't want that. He would lose if he did.

Not an inch apart his lips hovered over hers. They were both gasping sharing their breath, it mingling between them. Her hand squeezed his as she moaned and he moaned in return lacing their fingers, holding onto one another.

_So close..._ He could taste her, the fresh breath, the strawberry of her body wash. He silently begged for her to close the small distance he left between them.

Her hand relaxed and slipped out of his. _No,_ he thought madly as she stepped away, the curtain once more around her.

"You'll always wonder," he told her harshly. "Don't you owe it to your weasel boyfriend? You owe it to yourself."

She shook her head sadly. "I'll be out soon. You can have the shower next."

That was his cue to leave, and he did. He closed the door softly behind him, and leaned against it, his arms folded across his chest. He kicked the door with the back of his heel. It did little to exert his rage.

_I will win_. And he knew how. He should have thought of it before...


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Just Friends

The next morning while Draco slept Hermione went to the fireplace Flooing to the Borrow. She had to get away from Draco, if for no more than an hour. She had to refresh her memory of her family. She hung onto the guilt now like a life preserver. She wanted a reminder of why she shouldn't kiss Draco, because last night in the shower she had come too close. If asked then she wouldn't have remembered Ron's name.

She took in the worn couch, the pile of games in the corner, and the moving pictures covering the shabby wallpaper (Ron beaming down on her in his frame). At once she felt at home.

"Molly? Arthur? Ginny?"

No one answered. Then she recalled part of the conversation they had the last time she was there for dinner. It was Molly and Arthur's anniversary. They were all minus Ron, at a family reunion. She had the place to herself.

She walked up the rickety staircase and went in the first room to her right. Ron's old bedroom turned guest room. It was as cramped as ever, the two beds only three feet apart, a small nightstand with chipping wood between them. On the opposite wall was what she was looking for.

An old owl sat on its perch looking grumpy and forlorn. She knew it to be Aunt Muriel's, and as distasteful as its former owner who had died a month earlier in her sleep. George joked in her ear that someone must've smothered her, but Hermione knew it was natural causes. Aunt Muriel was old.

The only thing George inherited was the owl. After being bitten twice he left him with his parents. Hermione laughed when Ron told her, but quickly stopped when he revealed that he inherited a pocket watch that sounded a siren every hour. When Ron couldn't disable it he took a cast iron pot and beat its insides out.

She still laughed about that, but it faded as she approached the bird, "don't be afraid."

The owl - Sarran - clipped his beak once and hooted impatiently.

"Do you just not like George," she asked as she took out the letter she wrote to Ron last night, Sarran snatching it out of her hand. She opened the single window in the room and let him fly out before latching it close.

She took out another bit of parchment and placed the note inside of his cage as an explanation to the Weasley's. Not that they'd be upset she used the Sarran. George would do back flips if he thought the bird had left for good.

As she trotted downstairs to Floo home she thought about Ron's sent letter. Written over and over until it was perfect, she had it memorized.

_Dear Ron,_

_Wherever you are, I hope you're being safe. Tell Harry I said hello. I hope he's being safe too. Don't get in over your heads. I know how you two like to jump in feet first._

_I miss you. The house feels empty. So empty that I bought a kitten. I hope you don't mind. You'll love him, he's affectionate and lively. It's good to have him curl up next to you. It takes the sting out of the loneliness. I can't wait for you to meet him. It will be nice, won't it, when we come home to him?_

_Be safe, I love you, more than you know. Please, always remember that._

_Love, Hermione_

She did love him, but she couldn't help but wonder if it was enough. Enough to keep her from kissing Draco... From wanting to... From deciding to stay with him...

***

In Hermione's bedroom Draco laid a brown suitcase open on her bed. He tried not to imagine the acts performed on the pastel flowered comforter, at least not the ones where Weasel was involved. Those would just make him want to dip his brain into pure acid.

Keeping busy he rifled through her dresser, taking clothes out in heaps to be packed. Any other necessities wouldn't be needed. He had everything else she could want at his vacation home. It always remained reasonably stocked with food, soap, and his own things.

It became a driven desire to take her there since he had the idea last night outside of the door of the bathroom. If Hermione was reminded of Weasel in her home he would take her to his. It was perfect. Genius. He was stupid not to have thought of it at the beginning before he married her, or right afterwards as he watched her sleep next to him at the hotel.

She would love the cottage. The roof was round and thatched, the bricks baby blue. Inside of the front door was a large fireplace, two full bookshelves on both ends, and comfortable seating. There was a small kitchen that closely resembled hers right down to the center island. There was a bathroom with a tub large enough for a Hippogriff. The only downside was the one bedroom, and as grand as it was with its huge four poster bed and lace curtains, Hermione would not share. At least the couch was restful. He wouldn't mind it too much to sleep in the lounge, not when he knew how close she was.

Draco shut the lid of the suitcase as a shrill voice behind him startled, making him jump and spin around, his hand reflexively on his wand. He quickly let it go when he saw it was Hermione. For defensive purposes he probably should have drawn it.

"What are you doing," she yelled taking a step towards him looking wild.

It was almost as bad as those painfully beautiful Veelas when they were angry. They turned hideous in a second, except Hermione wasn't ugly, she was actually attractive as ever, but it frightened him when she gave him that look. It reminded him of their third year when she slapped him. He didn't want a repeat of history. It hurt quite a bit the last time.

"Answer me!"

"I'm packing your clothes," he said serenely. If he was calm, surely she would calm as well.

"Why?!"

"I'm taking you to my cottage up north."

She flared her arms. "I ask again, why?!"

Maybe he was wrong and she wouldn't calm down. "Every room, every object here - this house itself reminds you of Weasel."

"I want to be reminded," she shot back strongly.

"You have to be reminded," he corrected her, "You could forget -"

"I'll never forget! He's my best friend, my boyfriend, my everything."

Draco turned his back to her, a slight tugging in his chest. It would diminish once they were away from the wretched house. He would make new memories for her in a place that could be their own. It was theirs. What was his, was hers.

He'd be sure that he would do everything in his power to take advantage of his situation, that being his unadulterated love for the furious woman.

"You're going too far, Draco! I'm going to get this annulled no matter what you do."

"You've said that."

Her voice suddenly became gentle. "I don't want to hurt you."

In a time consuming movement he faced her, seeing the strict honesty of her words in her shining eyes. She shook her head pushing her hair from her face. He wanted to be the one to do that, he wanted to comfort her, but he couldn't seem to move.

"I care about you... You've been a wonderful husband, the best I could ask for, but..."

"I'm not the one you want." Even as he said it, it sounded hollow and out of place.

"You'll make some woman very happy one day..."

It was surreal, the words he thought he wouldn't hear at all, and especially so soon... He came so close to her his feet were on either side of her own, he could feel her body heat on him, seeping through his shirt. He touched her wet cheek.

"It isn't over, I still have time," he said, forcing his justification out of his constricted throat. "You're the only one I want to make happy, Hermione. You see, you don't get it. There's no replacing you. I don't want anyone but you. I don't need you, love. You aren't my air, but it's bloody hard to breathe without you. I've been struggling with that for so many years. I've tried to replace you, the images, and fantasies, and it's impossible. I know there's no replacing you now that I have you. I don't want to try."

She inhaled a shaky breath. "This must be hurting you," she wept, "I'm so sorry, but don't you think it's better if we end it now? Won't it be easier?"

"I want to spend every moment with you I can, so if you leave, I know I did everything I could."

She sucked in her bottom lip, her top teeth cutting in. He was surprised that she didn't draw blood. He reached out to make her stop, but she pushed past him knocking into his shoulder. He didn't move to see what she was doing, he waited until she was in front of him.

She had grabbed the suitcase, it dangling it beside her. There was an odd set determination on her face. "Lets go then. We won't discuss this anymore. We'll just be husband and wife. We'll be friends."

"For the next nine days," he commented bitterly.

She smiled. "I think you'll always be my friend, Draco."

The tug became a wrenching. He ignored it taking the suitcase from her, recollecting all those times his father held out his mother's chair in gallantry. He always swore he would treat any woman he loved with the same respect.

"I don't know if I can ever be your friend, Hermione, but for now, I'll try." That was a lie. He was trying for so much more.

***

She took his hand. She was past denying her feelings for Draco, she was already in deep, there was little else to do to make matters worse. While she would not create sexual bonds with him she didn't see reason why she couldn't enjoy his company. As a friend.

Maybe she still was in a little bit of denial. She knew better than to think at the end they could come out as friends. It was depressingly laughable, like coming out of a bloody battle unscathed.

It was more depressing to know that she was allowing this pathetic charade, that she would let him try to take reminders of Ron. Her only logical motivation above all others to keep her from being content with Draco.

Yet she felt grateful. A part of her did want to forget. His presence was intoxicating and she was getting addicted. That was most dangerous. She wouldn't know how she would say goodbye... She could hardly bear the thought... In five days, how could she have let it happen? Was it because she was not prepared for the side of Draco she was witnessing? It was a better excuse than to entertain the notion that she wasn't smarter than him. She was.

"Lead the way," she said and he tugged her along.

In the lounge she halted. In the corner of the couch was an orange ball.

Hermione broke free to scoop Drake in her right arm, his green eyes wide and excited. She accepted Draco's hand and they bent into the fireplace.

In fire and soot they were swept away, and when they stepped forward, he spun momentarily stealing her breath through apparation.

When her feet hit soil and she opened her eyes she thought that breathless was an insufficient description. What she saw before her should be titled as breathless.

"I wanted you to see this first," Draco explained.

A small cottage sat on top of a steep grassy hill, trees cluttered around it and them. Hermione looked at their surroundings and they seemed to be in an enclosure of a forest.

Though she'd been living with Draco, it was the first time that she felt that they were truly alone. There were no worries that Ginny would spontaneously drop by, no reminders. Nothing to keep her in her right mind. All those excuses she held on to were not there, she was falling into despair, a despair over falling into him.

She wanted to ignore that voice in her head that told her what she knew. That she wasn't keeping herself from Draco because of Ron, she was keeping herself from him because of morals. If she left Ron, she could be with Draco... She hated that insensitive thought, she couldn't believe she was having it.

"Welcome home," Draco said happily.

Hermione felt like crying for the second time that day. She knew that she didn't have the strength to be alone with him, not after what happened in the shower, not after being honest with herself. He would win. She would lose. Lose everything.

It was official. She was the worst girlfriend ever.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Beauty

Draco insisted that he would put her belongings up, but she wasn't fond of him getting fond of _her_ things. She stayed in the one bedroom of the cottage longer than necessary as to avoid him though he assured her he would sleep elsewhere, which was a small comfort.

She parted the beige curtains to the edges of a glass door. It led to the balcony where two chairs sat, a quaint table in the middle. However, that wasn't what grabbed her admiration. It was the pond the balcony overlooked, its clear waters rippling from the light breeze. Drake, an orange spot among the green, could be seen pouncing, having fun in his search of treasures like bugs and cattails to bat.

Quickly, she ducked out of the room. She heard the rushing sound of the water from the bathroom to her right and she slipped left to the lounge. She supposed if she busied herself with something - anything, than Draco wouldn't need her attention. She thought it was a slim chance, but worth it.

There were so many books, but she didn't have time to devour them all. She chose one at random and hurried back to her room. Feeling satisfied with herself she rested in one of the chairs on the balcony, the warm air slugging past.

The book (to her relief) was not a Dark Arts book, but a simple Wizarding story. A funny one at that, about an Auror woman searching for her lifetime friend who'd been wrongly accused of various crimes. She was laughing halfway through it.

Immersed in the pages she forgot where she was, who she was with, and that hours had passed her by. The sun was directly over the cottage, and she was at the end of her book already craving another. She debated which she wanted more, food or a book.

When she was positive that her growling stomach would win, a tray clattered next to her on the table. The plate was piled with small finger sandwiches.

Draco sat in the other chair, stretching his long legs out. "You're not going to shut yourself in tomorrow too, are you?"

She helped herself to a sandwich. "What if I do?"

"You won't," he said arrogantly.

"If you're so certain, why ask?"

"Curiosity."

"It killed the cat you know."

"Oh, no, not your cat," he gasped in mock horror.

"You're a jerk," she spat, but couldn't help it, her lips curve upward.

"You may borrow those books anytime you'd like."

"And you have plans," she guessed.

"With you in an hour, I do. Meet me out in the garden later." He winked, snatched a sandwich, and heaved himself up leaving her confused and bewildered.

Whatever Draco had planned wasn't any good, not for her. She knew she couldn't avoid him forever...

***

There was something that Hermione didn't know about Draco. What she didn't know was that Draco could draw. It was his escape during the war. He drew what he saw, and it oddly drove out the images in his mind, focusing on the lines and curves.

He wanted to draw Hermione in his surroundings. If she went back to that Weasel, it was another piece he would have. He would have the memories of their wedding, of her touches, the kitten he gave her that would act as a reminder, and now this. Insanely he thought if plenty of pieces were gathered he would be satisfied with what he had. Unfortunately he knew he would never be satisfied until he had her to himself. All of her.

He laid out the ruby red blanket, a picnic basket in the corner. He packed food in it earlier for after he was finished drawing her. With the clear blue sky and tall grass, it was literally picture perfect.

As something brushed between his legs he looked down and saw Drake turn, his ear perked up to a noise that was too sensitive for Draco to hear. He turned and saw Hermione coming out of the back door in a blue sun dress. As she walked past with a sly smile he saw that her hair was pulled into a high butterfly clip, tresses of her hair falling, framing her sweet face.

"Are you an artist," she suddenly asked.

"What?"

She pointed to the canvas at his feet with the pile of pencils. "Do you draw?"

"Oh, um, yes, I do."

An odd look came over her. "I never knew that."

He wanted to say that there was a lot of things she didn't know, but he waved his hand for her to sit on the blanket and took his place by the canvas, propping it up on his knee.

"You're going to draw me?" She looked worried.

He laughed. "Of course I am. Lay down and get comfortable. Enjoy the sun on you."

"Draco, I really prefer if you didn't -"

"Hermione, I can do this by memory, but it's easier if I have you here. Lay down."

She sighed, and did as he said, lying on her stomach. She felt the hem of her dress making sure it was over her bum. Her ankles were crossed in the air. She had long, shapely legs, but he noticed then that she was barefoot, her toenails painted a shimmering blue to match the sky.

"Are you leering at me?"

He snapped his gaze to her playful face, and smirked. "Of course. Every bloke leers at you. Didn't you know? Anyhow, I'm married to you, I have an exclusive right to leer all I want."

"I wonder what goes through your mind when you look at me like that."

"It's a wonderful gift then that you are not learned in Leglimency, but I shall tell you what I'm thinking."

"That is?"

"You're missing something..." He waved his wand through the air, and a few seconds later a book was flying out of the door and into his waiting hand. He looked at the title on the front and happy with his choice he nodded and tossed it in front of Hermione. "Read that, we're going to be here for a while."

She flipped it over reading the front cover. She laughed. "Hogwarts, A History... Are you trying to be funny, Malfoy?"

"Only if you want me to be, Malfoy."

"Barrel of laughs," she joked imitating him.

"Quit it now," he said his shoulders shaking with laughter, "I have to have a steady hand to draw."

***

Hermione had never buried herself so deeply into a book than she did then. Though she had practically memorized the book in her first year at Hogwarts, she paid extra close attention to the words printed on the page, the old wear it had, and even the drawings a younger Draco drew in the corner. Most of them were pictures of brooms, teachers in exaggerated motions of teaching. She even found herself within its pages, and she was as exaggerated as the teachers were, her hair extra wild, her front teeth larger, but her hand was raised high in the air, as it usually was in school when a professor asked a question. None of them were stick figures that children normally scrawled down, they were advanced.

What it all came down to was that she didn't want to think about Draco drawing her, how it was going to come out. She glimpsed back to the funny picture of her at the left hand corner of the page and smiled. Would he exaggerate her now?

Idly she turned the page and giggled. At the top of chapter fifteen was a miniature Harry perched on the letter "c" and Draco on the number "5" each had their wands drawn. Harry was sprawled out, bolts of zig zags coming out of his body while Draco grinned proudly.

"Is something funny?"

Hermione bit her lip for a moment in indecision. Was it by chance that he forgotten about his sketches? "Your cute drawings in here."

His cheeks heated a light shade of pink. That interested her, she'd never seen him blush before.

"What else do you have in here, Draco?"

"Let me get you another book," he volunteered halfway to standing before she spoke.

"No, I think this book is entertaining." His avoidance - his blushing reminded her of Ron. She glared back at the book uncomfortably.

He sat back down. "Keep in mind, I was eleven."

"I already saw your impressions of me and Harry. It can't get much worse than that."

"Don't bet on that," he mumbled under his breath, not quite low enough that Hermione couldn't hear.

She shook her head continuing to flip pages. She didn't bother engrossing herself into the words, but searched for more of young Draco's sketches. She saw a couple of recreations of the Dark Mark. On the inside of the back cover there was a picture of her, arms laden with books, tipped to the side as though she'd fall over, the world "Mudblood" written in cursive over her head.

She chuckled from that image clearly meant to be humorously offensive. Perhaps she should've been mad, but it was so much like Draco to draw something as that.

He looked up curiously. "What are you laughing about now?"

"I had a book bag, Draco. I didn't carry around books in my arms." She lifted the cover for him to see.

Half of his mouth curved up into a smirk. "I know, love. You carried all of your belongings in that horrid brown book bag. Your hair was smoother, your teeth less like boulders, and you were graceful. I couldn't draw you how I really saw you."

"Are you embellishing on that canvas of yours there too?"

"No."

Hermione looked back down, thumbing through the pages remembering having seen him in class, the book open beside him as his quill moved over it. She had become angry at the thought of the condition of that book. She didn't know what he was writing in it but she was sure it was something obtuse. She was right.

The sun made it's firy path through the darkening sky as she became tired, bored, and hungry. She had laid the book aside, folding her arms beneath her head to rest. If her sleepiness hadn't overcome her hunger she would have simply got up to get something to eat, but the blanket was incredibly comfortable. It was too easy to let her heavy lids fall, to slip into the dream world.

It was harder to wake up into reality. Gently, Draco shook her shoulder, and blearily she saw that his face was inches from her own. Instinctively she scooted back, blinking furiously. She looked up to the sky and saw that it was violet with dusk.

"You're beautiful even when you wake up," Draco said with an air of truthfulness. He moved to sit beside her bringing the basket in front of them.

She pushed herself up, stretching. She yawned. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"I didn't mean for you to go so long without eating. My apologies." He opened the basket and brought out two Butterbeer bottles and two lidded bowls of pasta.

"Who cooked this," she asked.

"I did."

She popped open the lid and peered inside. Draco thrust a fork into her hand.

"It's not poisonous," he assured amusement in his eyes.

"I know," she said, not daring say that she was hesitant for fear of how it would taste. She took a small bite, and her eyes widened in surprise. Once she swallowed she exclaimed, "this is delicious! Where did you learn to cook?"

"I'm having trouble deciphering whether or not that was a compliment."

She grinned as the taste continued to dance on her tongue. It was fantastic, better than anything she had ate. She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Thank you."

He smiled too reaching over to take the canvas and laying it at his feet. "What do you think?"

Hermione observed the black and white drawing of her. It was only exaggerated in the form that she couldn't believe that she looked that pretty. She had her head propped up on her hand while the book laid open under her other, smiling dazzling, her ankles crossed, her bare feet in the air. There was the sparkling pond behind her. Draco had even added the tinier sketches within the book. He included every detail, even the little freckle on the bridge of her nose.

"This is lovely," she sighed, touched at how he saw her. "You have a talent."

"You're a beauty beyond comparison."

Without saying another word she grasped his hand, feeling his smooth skin that had doubtfully worked a hard day in its life. She rubbed her thumb over his.

They ate in silence, their clasped hands between them.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Right to Go, Left to Stop

"Draco," Hermione chuckled, stumbling blindly with the Slytherin scarf over her eyes. "Where are you taking me?"

Draco held firm to Hermione's shoulders leading her forward down the hill from their house towards the thin woods. He didn't answer, wanting her to be surprised.

Late the night before when Hermione had retired, he visited his good old mate Theo's house. Theo was out of the country for business, so Draco took the liberty of taking his car keys and his silver sports car. One of the many Theo had stored in the garage. Since the war had ended he'd become infatuated with the Muggle objects declaring them "loads of fun."

Draco thought it would be "loads of fun" to be inside those cramped metal death traps with Hermione, and he had the excuse for it too. He didn't know how to drive, and she did.

"You didn't spend more money on me, did you?"

"Are you upset about the cat?"

She huffed, "no, I'm not, but I don't want you to think you can buy my love."

"Why would I ever think that? You date the poorest bloke in our school."

"So you know, Draco, he's not that poor anymore. He has a good deal of money."

"I'm sure," he said dryly. He didn't want to talk about the Weasel. The whole point of getting out of her house was so she wouldn't think about him. "No, I didn't buy you anything. I borrowed this." Borrowed was a loose term for steal, right?

"Good."

"A little ways more," he informed, irritated at her attitude towards his amount of cash.

"If it's so far you could have apparated us."

"I thought you wouldn't like that much."

"Better than walking blind."

He nodded although she couldn't see this, but moved his hands from her shoulders to circle her waist. "Ready," he warned, turning on the spot, forcing themselves through a tight tube.

When they landed, she gasped and wheezed. "It was better walking blind," she admitted.

He laughed softly, relieved that he didn't splinch her, it was only the abruptness of it that caused her shock. He pecked a kiss on her cheek. He felt the skin under his lips heat with a deep blush. It was overwhelming, his heart swelling with the love he had for this woman. He never thought he could love someone that much.

"Draco," she scolded, though he heard the underlining smile.

They stood at the edge of his land on a dirt road in front of Theo's car. He untied the knot of the scarf and slid it off stuffing it in his pocket.

She gasped again spinning round to look at him as if she wasn't certain he was serious, then back to the car. "Draco! Whose car is this?"

"It's my mate Theo's."

She ran her hand over the shining finish. Someone could be blind by the sun reflecting off of it. He was already sweating from the heat of the day.

"I didn't know you could drive."

"I can't. I was thinking that you could teach me."

She bit her lip doubtfully. "I don't know, Draco..."

He dipped his hand in his pocket withdrawing the golden key. He pitched to her, and to his surprise she caught it so swiftly it would make any Seeker proud, and him - being a former Seeker - was quite proud.

"Nice reflexes, Hermione."

"I don't know," she started a second time staring at the key, but Draco impatiently interrupted her.

"You love to teach, so get in the car, and teach me."

She pitched the keys back to him and he caught them on his chest, but she still hesitated. He groaned walked past her to and wrenched the passenger door handle, opening it. He bowed and made a grand gesture with his hand. "After you."

Leisurely she ducked inside to the leather seats, and he slammed the door and walked to the other side, the keys digging jagged prints in his hand. He slammed the door and saw Hermione out of the corner of his eye buckling her seatbelt. He followed suit, but couldn't help but make a comment.

"Are you scared to be in here with me?"

"I'm scared of you crashing, and anyhow, it's only right to buckle up."

"If it makes you feel better, you can drive."

"You'll never learn by just watching me."

"Maybe I could. I'm smart, you know."

"I never said you weren't."

"You implied it."

"No, I didn't!"

He chuckled. He loved irritating her, and it was easier now than it was years ago. He learned how to press her buttons by watching Weasley._ And she said no one could learn by watching,_ he thought.

"Tell me how to do this," he demanded looking for a place to put the useless key.

She took it from his fingers, and pushed it into a jagged hole under the wheel. She turned it, and the car rumbled beneath them with a roar equal to that of a lion. He jumped only slightly from it, and tried to listen as she explained the mechanics of the vehicle.

"Right to go, left to stop. Don't push too far or you'll jerk us. Use this to steer. Moving this stick will allow you to drive or to park. Always stop the car before parking it, and have your foot on the left pedal before you put it in drive. Oh, and don't drive too fast, you can easily lose control. Don't go off the road, and when you see a car, slow down and pull over, at least this time until you learn how to control it."

His mind was reeling with this jarring information. It was a lot to take in. He had a new respect for Muggles, he didn't know how they memorized all those buttons and things.

"Do you have it?"

"Left to go, right to stop."

She shook her head exasperated. "Right to go, left to stop."

"Oh, yeah, right." He thought it was pretty good since it was the only thing he had heard out of her. "Sit back, love."

She did as he said instantly, her hand flying to the edge of her seat. He thought this was particularly humorous, but did not laugh. If a Wizard who had never apparated before tried to do side apparation with him... Hermione had a lot more trust in him than he deserved. He would never trust anyone so much.

He pressed his foot on the left pedal and pulled the stick forward, and released the pedal. The car jerked forward down the incline jerking them along past the bumpy road bouncing them in their seats. Draco's chest seemed to explode with his heart pounding so furiously.

"Left to stop," Hermione screeched. "Left to stop!"

He fumbled, his mind going blank. _Left... Left what?_ He grabbed a hold of the wheel trying to steer it straight and pulled it right, and the car lurched spinning them ninety degrees, the back end of the car tipping back down the hill past the road.

Hermione was squirming in her seat for her wand and Draco knew he should have been doing the same. His wand was right there in his pocket, but he foolishly thought that if he let go of the wheel he would lose all control.

The car tipped further back, and she pressed the red button on her belt letting it fly open. She leaned over to him, her leg crossing over to his side to reach the pedals. "Left, left," she was yelling.

The front wheels left the road, and they were careening backwards. Like the wheel had burned him he let go and grabbed Hermione keeping her against his chest, his arms around her head protectively.

He glanced in one of the many mirrors and saw the trees behind him. All of the trees they would crash into. He tensed, waiting for the blows.

The first one came, an earthquake in the car jostling them terrible. Hermione screamed and he grunted. He felt the back of his hands bruise, a bone crack as it hit the wheel, her head still protected beneath them.

Her arms flew around him, and he felt a tugging on his jeans. She was pulling out his wand. She raised it as far as his elbow when the car veered left and the wand was shaken out of her grasp falling lost under the seat.

The car tilted, and they bowed, and they crashed to their side, the glass breaking beside Draco's head. He felt warm, sticky blood trickling from his hairline to his cheek, and felt the bone in his arm snap, a pain that he couldn't express as he was waiting for more blows, Hermione's screaming. He was waiting for it all to be over.

It only stopped when the car hit yet another tree, wrenching them forward. Then all was still.

Draco listened with bated breath. He felt the pain throughout his body, but all he was focusing upon was the woman in his arms. The woman who wasn't moving or speaking. He let go of her head, it lolling to the side on to his stomach, not pale but green.

There was no blood on her. Not until he looked down. Her left leg was cut open, blood pouring out soaking her jeans, sock, trainer, and the floor. It twisted in an unnatural way.

"Hermione," he croaked. "Hermione, answer me." His hand shook as he felt her face, the blood from his hand from the white bone protruding out smearing over her face, vivid red and bright against their complexion. "Hermione, love, talk to me. Answer me."

His whole body was trembling. He didn't have his wand, he couldn't reach it, the door pushed in making that impossible. He felt her hips for her wand taking it out. He thought of apparating them out of there, but there wasn't enough room for it, and aside from being injured, he wasn't sufficiently calm. He would splinch them making things worse.

Draco had never been so angry with himself in his life. His selfishness had cost them. Again, as it had so many times in the past, starting from their first year in Hogwarts when he got them all detention.

He felt her pockets for anything else, and then he felt it, the small Muggle device. Her mobile. He flipped it open, the excruciating throbbing in his hand making him wince, tears flowing.

He looked at her long list of contacts. Her parents, all of the Weasley's, Harry, the Longbottom's, Lovegood's, Finnigan's, Thomas'. It went on and on, and only one made sense.

He dialed the Weaslette.

"Hermione? Hermione? Are you there?"

"Weaslette - "

"Who is this," she demanded with attitude and worry.

He groaned. He thought he would black out, surprised he hadn't thus far, the blackness tempting him. "This is Draco Malfoy -"

"Draco Malfoy?! How in the hell did you get her mobile?"

"It's a long story." He thought he would be sick. "I need your help - she needs your help. We were in an accident. She's hurt. Badly. Help us - her. Please." He gave the address and flung the phone shut. Then he gave into the darkness threatening to engulf him. It was only a second before that he realized he would have been better off calling Theo.

* * *

A/N: Before anyone asks the specific of Hermione's leg, I imagine that the other side of the car was pushed in too and a jagged piece of metal cut into her.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Keeping The Secret

The first thing Draco saw when he woke was a gray-haired Healer in a lime green robe standing over him giving him a yellow-toothed smile. There was a white ceiling and if he looked to the side he could see curtains hiding other patients and white walls, downwards was white tile. He was in St. Mungo's. _So the Weaslette did come through,_ he thought happily.

He shifted in his bed checking to see if everything was in order. There was no pain, at least not physically. However with such strong trepidation he felt like his heart was going to fail on him. If what he feared was true, then he would be glad for it.

"Hermione," he cracked. "Where is my wife?"

"Wife," the Healer asked curiously. "Maybe I should run some more tests on you."

"The woman I was with," he said sitting up, the Healer's hands out ready to catch him. "I was with a woman. She has a mop of brown hair, had a broken leg." _Beautiful_, he added to himself knowing that it wouldn't make an effect to say it aloud.

"Oh, yes," the woman nodded. "Hermione Granger. Yes, Ms. Weasley brought you two in. She's in the next room."

"Is she okay," he asked, his feet on the floor standing up. It was as though nothing had been wrong with him, though as he looked down at his clothes anyone would beg to differ. Blood was splashed on his shirt and jeans, but someone had wiped his hands clean.

"She's lost a lot of blood," she said, but Draco was halfway out the door then.

In the blindingly white hallway was a woman leaning against the wall, her arms folded across her chest. Her vivid red hair was wild, like a flame around her head. She looked over at him, and he thought that she'd burn holes into his chest.

"I see you survived," she observed coldly.

"How's Hermione?"

"She'll live."

"The Healer said she lost a lot of blood."

"She did."

Draco felt fire erupt inside of him. "I would appreciate it if you lost your tone and tell me exactly what is wrong with my wif - Hermione."

Her eyes narrowed, her breathing labored. "I know she's your wife," she spat, "I saw the ring on her hand." She stormed up to him until his back was pressed up to the wall, her finger jabbing his shoulder. "I want to know what's happened! I want to know everything! What did you do to my friend!"

He sighed. There was no way out... She had to know. He took her hand off his shoulder. "Calm down, it's my fault, not Hermione's -"

"I know it's your fault," she hissed wrenching her hand from his.

He slid down to the floor. "Sit down, I'll tell you everything."

She scrutinized him before she did, folding her arms back over her chest. "You better make this good, Malfoy."

"I don't have to, it is," he said. He told her everything, from the ball, to the deal, to Hermione's anger, to his love, to the accident. He took full responsibility for everything.

Her eyes softened on him, but the fire never left. "I don't forgive you, but for Hermione and Ron's sake, I won't tell him. This will kill my brother."

He nodded not caring about the Weasel, but anxious to get the point that he was most desperate to talk about. "Will you tell me what's wrong with my wife now?"

"Yes," she said, and she did.

Draco had never cried in public, and he never imagined in the middle of St. Mungo's hall he would do so. Least of all would he ever imagine that he'd let the Weaslette comfort him. But he did. He cried, let Ginny Weasley comfort him, and asked the ruler of the skies to forgive him.

***

Hermione remembered the car crashing, the motion that jolted her in her seat. She remembered Draco trying to shield her. She had screamed loudly. She had tried to reach for her wand and Draco's. That was all she remembered.

When she woke to a bulky male Healer making marks on his clipboard fear gripped her in its steely grasp. She worried about Draco. He shielded her, protected her, but was he okay? She didn't dare think the worst, she couldn't.

"Where is Draco Malfoy? Is he all right?" She realized her voice was shaking as she asked this to the Healer.

He nodded absent-mindedly not looking up from his scribbling. "Your husband is right as a fiddle," he said. "He'll be in shortly, and he'll explain things to you. It was his request." He walked out without a second glance.

It was then that she noticed that she was the only patient in the room, hers being the singular bed. That wasn't a good sign. That meant something was wrong with her, but if it was something too horrible, they would have told her, so she breathed steadily, and smoothed the white sheet over her pulling it over her blouse. She didn't want to see the red splotches and wonder whose blood it was. Hers or Draco's.

She stirred her limbs to make sure everything was in order, however, she couldn't move her left leg. No matter how hard she tried to pull it wouldn't move. Curiously she slid the sheet off of it, and saw there around her bare leg was a black metal brace. A Muggle contraption. She read that Healers used them only in severe cases where magic just wouldn't work...

"For your safety they used a charm to keep it to the bed and for your comfort they numbed your leg."

Draco stood inside of the closed door, dark red blood on his black clothes. His face was more ghostly than usual, but he looked okay. There didn't seem to be a scratch on him.

She released a breath she had been holding as her eyes scanned for any deformities. "You're not harmed."

He flinched, but why she couldn't imagine. "I'm not." He took a chair and brought it up next to her, sitting backwards on it, the back to his chest. He draped his arms over it, reached over, and took her hand in his. He didn't look at her, his eyes glued to their hands.

Fear took her in again, but this time it wasn't because she thought he may be hurt. "Draco... Look at me."

Slowly he blinked and raised his head. His eyes watered as he gazed at her face. "I'm sorry," he apologized gruffly. "It's my fault."

She wanted answers. How did they get out of the car? What was wrong with her leg? But his despair came first, forcing all other inquiries from her. "What is your fault?"

"You saw your leg, Hermione."

She looked down at it. The brace seemed very offensive then, not just for being there, but for causing distress to Draco. "Is it permanent?"

"No, thank God for that."

"Then why are you upset?"

"Because I put it there! You're hurt because of me!"

Instantly she thought of all the dangers she had been through. She thought of the Baskilisk, the Death Eaters, Voldemort, Nagini, Trolls, and everything she had gone through for peace and safety, and she laughed. She laughed so hard her side was hurting. She doubled over, breaking contact with his hand.

"I don't find this funny!"

"I do," she gasped, wiping the tears from her eyes, she could see his swimming features, and she saw that he was shocked his eyebrows disappearing beyond the fringe of his hair. She stopped laughing though her shoulders resumed quavering with her laugh. "Draco, you know my history as I know yours. Never once did my friends blame themselves for whatever happened to me. Well, Harry did, but he blamed himself for everything," she waved her hand dismissively. "The point is, that it wasn't their faults. It was just part of being together, being who we were. I never blamed myself for what happened to them, I didn't blame myself for any of the times they were hurt. That's how it was and how it is. This isn't your fault. If it's anyone's fault it's mine."

He snorted, "how do you figure?"

She inhaled. She carried her smile as reassurance for him. "I'm the one who undid my seatbelt. If I hadn't..."

"It's more than broken, Hermione."

Now they were getting somewhere, the truth of what took place. "What's wrong with it?"

"Nerve damage," he told her shortly.

She smiled, elated. "That's not serious."

"They're having to send out for a special Healer. He'll be here in three days. We'll come back here and he'll fix you up."

"That's not serious at all!"

"Yeah... Mind you, that only makes me feel marginally better. It hasn't been a week and I've already gotten my wife into St. Mungo's."

"Draco," she said seriously. "I could have died, but you protected me. It's because of you that I'm here. I owe you my life."

He sat up, took her face in his hands pressing a kiss to her forehead. She could feel the movement of his lips and the breath of each syllable. "No, it's my life that I owe you. You wouldn't have been in that car if it weren't for me. I'm sorry for that."

"Dra -"

"Stop it," he ordered. "I have to leave for a little while. Your friend wants to speak to you."

She was confused and then suspicious. No one knew about them, and if he had told… The secret about their marriage was out… "My friend?"

He traced his nose down hers; she greatly tried to ignore the shivers it sent through her, but it worsened as he spoke to her lips. "The Weaslette. I called her to help us out of that ruddy car." She gasped in horror, but he continued. "It's all right, love. She's not angry. Not least at you. She said that things would go back to normal after the annulment."

What winded her more than Ginny knowing, or that Draco knew how to work a mobile, was that he mentioned the annulment. There was no pretense. He meant it. He accepted it. He didn't want her.

Why did that hurt so much?


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Night of a Lifetime

_Hermione would've been less scared if Ginny had come storming in with her wand out prepared to cast a Bat-Bogey hex on her. Ginny had serenely walked in and took the seat that Draco had vacated while he waited out in the hallway She didn't appear to be angry. It was worse, she looked... Disappointed._

_"I really hate to think Malfoy is smarter than you, Hermione," she said. "Were you really drunk?"_

_"Yes," she confessed softly, ashamed, blushing._

_Ginny's brown eyes rolled upwards in exasperation. "You never drink. Not even at the celebration of Voldemort's defeat!"_

_"I know..."_

_"He didn't make you drink, did he?"  
_

_"No."_

_"Then how could you be so foolish?"_

_"I don't know, Ginny," she screamed suddenly, "I don't know! Don't you think I feel bad about this?! I betrayed Ron! I made a stupid deal with Malfoy!"_

_"You can break the deal."_

_Tears sprung in her eyes. "I don't break my deals, you know that. When I make a promise, I keep it."_

_"By dating my brother, didn't you make a promise to remain faithful? Don't you think that's a better promise to keep than the one you've made with Malfoy? Malfoy, Hermione, really, of all people!"_

_"I know!" She brought her head back, banging it against the wall. She let the tears cascade down._

_"Hermione...."_

_"Yes?"  
_

_"Do you love him?"_

_Hermione looked at Ginny, and couldn't tell from her expression if she was talking about Ron or Draco. "Who?"_

_"Does it matter which?"_

_She didn't answer._

_Her expression then became one of pity. "Oh... Oh, Hermione..."_

_"I know... Please, don't hate me, Ginny."_

_"I could never hate you. I know you love Ron. I just wished... I just wish I knew how to help you."_

_"Don't tell Ron."_

_"I don't want to hurt him. But you should tell him. No matter what you choose, you need to tell him."_

_"I will..." She would have to. There was no other way to stop the crushing guilt._

"Why so distracted?"

Hermione looked up from her dinner into Draco's anticipating face, his eyes wide and head bowed forward eagerly. She shook her head, not to dismiss him, but to clear the recreation of the conversation she had with Ginny earlier. "Thinking..."

It had been a long day. A car crash, recovering only hours in St. Mungo's which felt like a lifetime in itself. Neither one of them were up to cooking meals themselves, so they had settled on a restaurant. Draco had really decided upon it, Hermione very willing to be dragged along.

She was barely tasting the food she was eating. Though the walls were painted in vibrant red, the one-of-a-kind paintings hung all around showing little girls in bows and woman in excessive large hats lounging in grassy parks. They were all dull to her. She couldn't appreciate any of it. What she could appreciate beyond anything was that they both survived, and second to that was Ginny's forgiveness, and third was the clothing she had left to get them.

Hermione wore Ginny's low cut silk red blouse and her fitted jeans, all of which were a tad long as she was an inch shorter than her friend. Draco didn't seemed to mind that, but he did mind that he had to wear Bill's clothes, the white button shirt, the leather vest, and the dragon-hide trousers. However as they had planned to stop for something to eat, he couldn't very well wear the bloody clothes.

"What are you thinking about," he asked.

"What happens in seven days..."

"We get an annulment, like you wanted."

She took her gaze off of her plate to peer at him through her lashes. He was being careful, she could feel that, but she didn't understand what he was being careful about. When had he ever hidden things from her? He was honest, about their marriage, about her being drunk, about stripping her saying that she looked "uncomfortable." He didn't care about hurting her feelings. No one seemed to... "Do you want an annulment?"

Unexpectedly he slammed his fork down with a loud clatter. They were well alone in the restaurant so there was no disturbance to anyone, but she felt like the spotlight was on them, it was much noisier than if other people had been chatting around them.

"Damn it, Hermione, no I don't want an annulment! You're the one who wants it!"

"Will you give it to me?"

He threw his napkin on the table, pushed out his chair, stood up, and took out a handful of Galleons from his pocket throwing it in the middle of the table. "Lets go. We'll go wherever we have to, to get this bloody marriage over with."

She grinned, relaxing for the first time since they left the hospital. "Sit down, Draco. Eat the rest of your dinner."

"I thought you wanted to end this marriage?"

"I thought you wanted to."

He plopped back down in his seat, his elbows digging into the table. He rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers. "I don't understand you. What is it you want from me? What do you want?"

She leaned forward taking his hands down from his face. She held them on the table. "I thought that maybe... With the brace..."

"That's temporary, you'll be able to walk properly soon."

"What if it wasn't temporary? What if you blamed yourself too much whether it was or wasn't?"

He seemed disgusted then. "You think that I would stop loving you because of that?"

"Lets be honest here, you are vain."

He smirked. "Yes, I am. I think I'm beautiful and you're beautiful. I think we make the most beautiful couple out there." His smile left, complete severeness in its place. "But I love you for you. I love you because you're smart and strong, you challenge me. I will _never_ stop loving you. Ever. I will forever want to be your husband, and nothing, your injuries, inabilities, or my first taste of guilt can change that."

Somberly, she held his hands tighter before releasing them. "Then I'll be keeping my side of the deal." She took a bite of her food. Fettuccine, she recognized. Taste and colors were coming back to her.

***

Draco watched her. There was little need to as he had contained every bit of her to memory. He simply watched her and reminisced to their time when they danced at the ball. Even being slightly intoxicated she was a wonderful dancer.

"You don't remember dancing with me, do you," he asked out of the blue clearly taking her off guard.

"Um, vaguely," she admitted, her cheeks deepening in color.

He got to his feet and came to her side holding out his hand. "Then dance with me now."

"Draco, I can't dance with my leg in a brace!"

"You won't have to do a thing," he promised.

Uncertainly she gingerly placed her hand in his. He gently tugged her to her good foot, her other barely touching the floor. He folded his arms beneath her bum and lifted her so her feet rested on his paying careful attention to her brace. She exhaled in alarm and clutched his shoulders.

Stunned she stared at him wide eyed, but he ignored this. He stepped away from the table moving her with him. Then between the tables, he slowly danced with her, his hands sliding up to her hips. She eased into his arms then, her head on his chest hearing the accelerating of his heart by the close proximity they were in, the way their bodies were swaying together. He merely hoped she didn't feel anything else.

"Where did you learn how to dance so well," she questioned.

"My mother. My parents think that every gentleman should know how to dance."

"That's nice," she said simply.

He bowed his nose to her hair, inhaling her honey scent. He would give anything and everything to have more than eight more days with her. Time went by too fast. He had memorized every aspect of her, but it wasn't adequate. He needed to see her everyday or else he feared he would lose every part of her he could rightfully say he had claim to. Except her heart. That was something he couldn't stake claim to. It belonged to someone else.

He kissed the top of her head. He didn't need to see her everyday. He plainly needed her. He worried he wouldn't know how to breathe without her, and he would never divulge that information that to her.

That was the strange thing he found about love. The most important things to him was her safety and happiness. Putting aside that her safety had been jeopardized once in his care, he knew that if she was happier with Weasley then he would let her go. Regardless how that possibility pained him.

As if she sensed what he was thinking she raised her face to his, her chin on his chest. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, love."

"I have a lot to be sorry for."

"No more than I do."

This made her giggle, "no, much less."

He met their noses. Being that near to her lips was agonizing. "I love you, Hermione."

She turned away, her ear to his erratic heart once more. "I am sorry."

"Don't be. After all I've done..." He could name the offenses off in his head. The unjust detentions he gave her and her friends, the torture, fighting on the wrong side of the war, attempting to kill their Headmaster. The list went on and on. In some way he felt that he needed to make up for it all. Marrying her, making her happy, was a minuscule part of that.

"It's not that you don't deserve me."

"That's exactly what it is. I _don't_ deserve you, but I do want you." He laid a hand on the back of her head, holding her there, and wished that he never had to let go.

Too bad he gave up on wishes long ago. To keep his heart beating he was accepting that Hermione would - in the end - annul their marriage. There was no saving something that was lost to begin with.

* * *

A/N: I recieved a comment from Her-My-Oh-Knee about the dancing scene, that it seems to be taken from Twilight. Unfortunately you can look up every scene and find one closely related, but it's true that it does seem that I've gotten that from the book. Actually, I'd forgotten that scene when I was writing this. It's taken from something of my own life.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Quite A Story

Cramped on the couch, Draco groaned and lifted his legs over the armrest, the blanket sliding off his feet and the pillow to the floor. The couch was as comfortable as the bed that was being occupied by Hermione, but it was not as pain-free. His spine wasn't likely to be the same again.

Bright colors danced behind his lids announcing that the sun was up and he should've been too, but it wasn't the best nights sleep. He decided effortlessly that he would wait until he heard Hermione. She was the only reason to be awake anyhow.

He thought he just heard something then, something along the lines of a burst of fire, but he was too tired to crack open an eye to check. She would alert him in seconds if it was her, and it had to be her. No one else could have come through and no one else was there in the house with them. He felt assured of that.

He stretched his arms above his head when something soft and thick come over his face. He jolted, not able to gasp or yell for he could not even breath. His nails instantaneously went to clawing at the pillow trying to find the source that was the cause of his suffocation. He found one hand, as his other reached below the side of the couch to blindly find his wand.

If he wasn't scared before he was then. His wand wasn't there, and the unknown hand wasn't releasing him. Whoever was killing him, it wasn't Hermione.

Hermione... Hermione! Did this stranger get to her first? He fought harder, scratching at the arm as he cursed his useless wards that he'd placed around his property.

Then as quickly as the pillow came, it left, and Draco was wheezing for air trying to locate the uninvited guest, and when he did he narrowed his eyes and let out a long string of profanities.

It was no wonder the wards didn't work. He didn't have them set up against his best mate.

Theo stood there shooting daggers, Draco's wand in his right hand, the pillow in his left. He threw the pillow to the side and held out the wand.

"What's wrong with you," Draco growled angrily making no move to retrieve his wand though since his wand had been taken from him during the war by Potter he had never felt comfortable with it being handled by anyone but him.

"Your reflexes suck," Theo said with interest.

"I was asleep!"

"They were quicker in the war," he sneered.

It echoed Draco's thoughts, but as far as he was concerned that statement was a low blow. He snatched his wand, leapt to his feet and aimed between his eyes. He would show him his reflexes, or so he thought. Theo didn't draw his.

He snickered. "You steal my car and you have the gall to try to duel me?!"

Draco lowered his wand, the attempted murder suddenly making sense. "Oh."

"I should hex you! You better have a good damn reason, Draco!"  
There was only one reason and he knew it wasn't good. It would be liable to make things worse. "I was learning to drive."

"In my brand new car!" He seemed aghast by the concept. Where is it?"

"There was an accident..."

His eye twitched madly. A good sign of a horrible curse building. Draco knew the signs, but he didn't bother to try to defend himself. He as good as had it coming.

"An accident? How bad was it?"

***

The disembodied voices became steadily louder coaxing Hermione out of her restful sleep. She heard Draco, unable to make out what he was saying. There was another voice, a lighter but rougher one that she couldn't distinguish.

When it was apparent that she wasn't asleep she became alarmed. Draco and other man did not sound happy.

She grabbed her wand that always stayed securely beside her and she jumped up, the pain and tingle in her left leg flaring inches from her knee. She cried out and grasped it harder than necessary to keep it still awaiting the ache to subside.

Drake meowed beside her, his small legs coming up high to walk through the blankets to sit next to her.

When her leg felt to some extent normal she grabbed a bottle on the nightstand of a potion St. Mungo's gave her and took a swig. Then she took the brace set on the wall next to her cane. She fit it expertly over her leg and carefully rose leaning her weight on the cane. She felt too young to being starting such a habit.

She began to hobble her way out of the door. If she was irritated with any of those actions it was how slowly she was able to move. If there was a fight it would be long over by the time she got there.

With the voices loud and clear she stopped just inside of the entrance of the lounge. There was a man with his back to her in black trousers and a bright blue shirt that made his honey hair strand out further against his tan complexion.

"An accident," the man asked dubiously. "How bad was it?"

Draco frowned and jerked his head towards her in way of alerting. The man followed spinning to face her.

Hermione recalled the rabbity appearance as Theodore Nott. Draco's best mate. The only man that Draco had seen as an equal.

"Hello, Nott," she greeted in relief. She was glad that it was a friend (of Draco's at least) and not a enemy.

He appraised her with surprise and... Sadness. "Hello, Granger. It's… Fine to see you. It's been a while."

Since his eyes were not leaving hers she decided to answer his question that was originally directed at Draco. It would let him off the hook. "Um, I hate to tell you this, Nott, but... Your car didn't fair as well as us."

His mouth parted in outrage.

"I'm really sorry," she added quickly. She was sorry. She meant what she said to Draco last night, she was sorry for a lot of things, most of them taking place in the last week.

He glared at Draco. "Tell me she went to a Muggle hospital."

Hermione understood his meaning. She wouldn't have had a Muggle brace on if she went to St. Mungo's and if she had, the car must be fine. She gripped her cane harder readying herself for the explosion that was sure to come from the Slytherin as his eye was convulsing like a ticking time bomb.

"Sorry, mate, but the car didn't make it."

Like someone dear had died to him, Nott stumbled to the couch, collapsing on it. "I come home to find one of my best cars is missing, that it was your magic that helped you nicked it, I come here to hex you into the next fortnight and see Granger. And not only just Granger - one of the Golden Trio - but Granger shuffling around with a bad leg. With the hell is going on with you, Draco?"

Hermione was struck with inspiration. "Draco, let me tell him. You told Ginny." It was no more than fair.

Nott squeezed his eyes shut and just as quickly they sprung open. "Wait, she's calling you by your given name, and... Ginny? The Weasley girl? Potter's girlfriend?!"

She limped over taking a seat with adjacent to him. "It's quite a story," she started.

***

After telling their tale Hermione kindly left to make brunch for the three of them. Theo remained on the couch in shock, Draco taking his wife's place beside him.

"I'll buy you a new car," Draco vowed.

"You owe me more than a new car. You stole and wrecked the best one I had."

"Fine. I'll buy you three as long as you never mention it again."

"Deal," he said, but made no move to shake on it.

For several long minutes Draco listened to the sounds of dish ware from the kitchen, the thudding cane on the floor in replace of the missing footstep that should have been there. Inwardly he flinched as if it were a song with a badly off beat.

"You're in over your head," Theo stated obviously adverting his thoughts.

"Why do you say that," he asked in any case.

"She's Granger! You're secretly married to Potter's best friend! Her friend's are the reason the Dark Lord's dead!" He shook his head in marvel.

"They're going to kill you... What were you thinking?"

"The same as you. She's Granger... You know how I've felt about her."

"That doesn't give you rights to her! Does the name DA mean anything to you? Load of mad students seeking justice and revenge! You're taking a huge risk for nothing!"

Draco laughed. In his opinion being killed by her friends was well worth the risk. He would have never taken it otherwise. "I'll take my chances."

They fell into silence. While Theo was becoming bad tempered and likely envisioning his friend's murder Draco had returned to listening to Hermione. Hating the thought of her doing it all on her own he stood halfway with intentions of helping her when she came in, the tray of tea hovering in front of her.

The rest happened so fast the was stunned for a second. The tray had almost made it to the round coffee table, but was set too close to the edge and it toppled off as soon as the spell broke. The glass cups shattered, tea spilled, and at the same time Hermione screamed and fell, crumpling in a heap.

Draco ran over dropping to his knees. He held her shoulder and hip to restrain her withering that could additionally hurt her. Theo stood near them, not certain how he could help, too surprise to think clearly.

"Make yourself useful, won't you, and clean up the mess?"

He came to himself waving his wand, the tray, cups, and tea disappearing.

"I'm okay," Hermione insisted, pushing his hands away, but she continued to grimace.

"No, you're not," Draco argued. "We're getting you to St. Mungo's."

"I slipped, that's all. It can wait a couple of days."

"Use your head, Hermione. Don't be stupid -"

"Don't call me stupid!"

"You're hurt!"

"In two days I have to go to St. Mungo's, it would be senseless to go now!"

Draco moaned feeling a headache approaching. "Can you stand?"

"Yes," she snapped hitting the end of her cane on the floor.

He grasped her arm aiding her until she was firmly and safely on her feet though safely might have been the wrong term to use considering she had just fallen.

"You two sound like you've been married ages," Theo said.

"Go home," Draco responded, his attention on Hermione's gimp to the couch. "After our deal I'll help you pick out your new cars."

"Why don't you do it tomorrow," Hermione suggested.

"I'm not leaving you here by yourself."

"I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Draco Malfoy. Besides, I'm tired, I don't hope to do much tomorrow. I'll only be a bore to you. Go on, have fun."

He wanted to protest, specifically about her being a "bore," but at that instant Theo jubilantly agreed saying, "good, I'll see you in the morning, Draco! Bright and early. Thanks, Granger."

Hermione beamed and because of that smile he shrugged weakly and waved goodbye to his friend who vanished in the fireplace.

_Fine,_ Draco thought crossly. He would let her have her way, but he wasn't going to leave her alone either. Not even if he was a sucker for her smile, which he was.

The Weaslette could make herself helpful, but until then he would let Hermione relax. The only interruption he would give her would be the potions she would take for her leg.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

A Day Apart

The next morning Hermione walked into the kitchen to see the fridge door opened, Ginny standing within its cool embrace drinking straight from a bottle of wine. One gulp later she held it up to her eyes reading the name, smacked her lips and smiled at Hermione.

"Your husband has good taste in wine."

Flabbergasted she laughed. "What are you doing here, Ginny?"

She put the wine back inside and shut the door. "Snooping."

"I see that. I meant, why are you here."

"Malfoy asked me to look after you."

She raised her eyebrows in question. "You did Draco a favor?"

"No, I'm doing you a favor. He said you fell."

"You believed him?"

"He was telling the truth when he said you were in St. Mungo's," she pointed out smartly.

"I'm not used to walking with a cane," she finally admitted.

"Don't worry about that today. You're coming with me to the Burrow."

She made a face at the thought. "I don't think so, Ginny. It's hard to be around your family while I'm married to Draco. I feel like an impostor."

"Forget about Draco."

"It's not that easy."

She pointed an accusing finger at her. "You make things more difficult than they have to be. You need to be around us, it'll be good for you. George wants us to stop by at his store. That'll take your mind off all of it."

Hermione could tell when Ginny lied. She was a fantastic actress, and only those closest to her could tell like she could tell then. Ginny's eyes always tightened the slightest bit when she fibbed. Hermione didn't think she was really even lying, but trying a too hard to get her to go to the Burrow, and Hermione knew why.

"I haven't forgotten about any of you. I haven't forgotten about Ron."

Ginny nodded solemnly. "My brother loves you."

"And I love him."

"More than Malfoy?"

That was not a question she was prepared to answer. She tried to changed the subject. "I'll be back in six days."

"You didn't answer my question."

"Don't do this again," she begged leaning harder on her cane. "I don't want to discuss this."

Hermione thought of the joke shop, Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. She could get lost in the products for a good few hours. She could take her mind off of everything. With that she sighed in defeat. "Okay. I'll go, but what's the story going to be on my leg?"

Ginny grinned triumphantly. "We'll tell the truth, just leave Malfoy out of it."

"That's dishonest."

"That's why it's a lie."

***

It could've been the summer air, but to Draco it was stuffy, almost impossible to breathe comfortably. He was sweaty and tired, and wanted nothing more than to go back to his cool vacation home instead of being propped up against a blue brick building waiting to give Theo however much money he needed for his three new cars. It had been a long morning as it was transferring a large bundle of Galleon's into Muggle currency.

Up and down the street Theo test drove the vehicles. Every... Single... Bloody... One. Draco had never been more bored out of his mind. Hermione thought she'd bore him? It didn't matter what she did, he would watch with interest. He would be with her, and that would be more than enough. But there he was. With Theo. Bored.

His apathy at the Muggle equipment turned into hatred in one "jolly" ride. Since those ruddy things had hurt Hermione, he would much love to see them in the junk yard, or at least that's what he thought they were called. His Muggle terms were getting better but he was careful around Hermione not wanting to embarrass himself.

Theo came up using great excited gestures with a greasy bloke talking fast about mechanics. As Theo passed Draco, Draco slipped the bag of money into his hand. It should be plenty to satisfy him and he could keep the change if he could leave early, but he doubted that Hermione would want him back so soon. She was probably having a grand time with Weaslette.

With his sleeve he wiped the sweat from his brow. He could have gone in, but the smell of the fuel gave him a headache. Then again, so did the voracious sounds the hunk of metals made outside. The Muggle world on the whole was an overly loud and annoying place yet it served one purpose that day.

Out of his pocket Draco extracted the papers that would callously free him from the woman he loved forever. He didn't read the page, didn't care what it said even if it stated that everything he owned would belong to her. None of it mattered. What mattered was that it would make her happy. That was the whole point, wasn't it? His neat signature was signed at the bottom right next to the 'x'. The line below his waited to be signed by Hermione.

What was that stupid saying? Love something set it free... He was going to set Hermione free. Like she wanted. Like he feared. In six days it would be like none of it ever happened. Her nightmare, his dream, would be officially over. She would go back to Ron and he would go back to being alone. That was how it was supposed to be after all. Who in their right mind ever changed the ending of books or movies?

***

Zonko's, the old joke shop from when Hermione was in school was bought by George years ago and since then had become a long impressive chain. Yet there still remained one true store in Diagon Alley at building number 93. George with his new wife Angelina lived upstairs.

It hadn't changed a bit since they first set up shop. Everything was in its place, orderly and neat, full of buying customers. Fred would have been proud and at the same time a little miffed. He would have expected a change in something, but his twin brother was doing everything to keep his memory alive, and that included a picture of him above the cash register. Though if no one knew that George had a twin (and everyone did know) they would think he was a very narcissistic individual.

The enlarged picture was still which brought curious onlookers. It was one that Hermione had taken years ago with her camera. She had taken it simply to show Arthur, explain to him how it worked. She snapped one at Fred in air on a broom. It turned out to be great, his red hair shining like fire. Of course he had to be dramatic falling off of his broom and claiming that he'd gone blind from the flash.

Hermione examined the love potions, the makeup, and the new line of "hairstyles in a wave." Ginny stayed right by her side as they compared whatever product they picked up.

From across the room George spotted them. He weaved his way through the crowd to them. He smiled as he hugged his sister and in turn hugged Hermione. He clapped his hands and exclaimed, "it's so good to see you here! I haven't seen you lately, Hermione!"

"I've been busy," she said and quickly added, "it looks like you're doing very well."

He looked around as if he hadn't noticed. "Yeah, yeah, it's coming along great."

"Fred would be pleased."

"Yeah, he would be." He shook his head, the grin returning. "I'm glad that you stopped by. Mum has been harping about you. She's very worried. Insisted that she'd bring you soup. Ginny here has been trying to talk her out of it."

"Clearly you can see, George, she's not sick."

He rose a brow. "I can see that, but I can't help but wonder why you, Hermione, were acting so strangely. You only act like that when you have something to hide. You aren't quite the actress my dear little sister is."

Hermione panicked, her face heating, she looked to Ginny, her eyes pleading to help her. She couldn't have any more people know. She was already in deep. So deep that she would never recover fully.

Without missing a beat, Ginny said, "she's pregnant."

George's eyes flickered from her to Hermione (whose mouth hung open a degree), and he laughed. He surveyed their surroundings undoubtedly checking to see if anyone had overheard. It appeared not, everyone was too busy to be listening in.

"Very funny." He took both of their arms and lead them away. He dragged them the length of the room to another door, shutting and locking them in. Hermione stumbled the whole way, Ginny holding her upright until she could straighten herself out, her cane properly on the floor. Her leg throbbed painfully, but it was nothing to what she knew was coming. The truth.

With a wave of his wand he flicked on the overhead lights. By the piled boxes on the floor and the lines of shelves full of them that was now visible she knew they were in the supplies closet.

"Sit," George commanded.

Her and Ginny did as he said sitting on the two nearest boxes. George pulled up one and sat across from them suddenly catching sight of her bummed leg.

"What happened?!"

"We'll explain later," Ginny promised."

Forcing his gaze off of the brace he became business again. "Just as I know when you're hiding something, Hermione, I know you're lying, Ginny. I think it's time for some truth. Now."

Hermione had rarely heard George so serious, but he was much more so since his brother's death, and even when Fred was alive he was the one most expected to be. In spite of that she hadn't seen him look stern in a long time. She couldn't remember last. At Fred's funeral? Even then he was reciting their favorite jokes.

"Hermione, you're crying," he asked shockingly.

Automatically she touched her eyes, her fingertips becoming wet. He was right, she was crying. "Oh," was all she replied.

Ginny slung an arm over her shoulders. "George, you have to _swear_ you won't tell anyone! Not mum, dad, Bill, Percy -"

He snorted at Percy's name.

"Charlie, Harry" she went on, "and especially Ron."

"Especially Ron," he recurred. "How bad is this, Ginny?"

"Bad..."

Hermione dug her nails into her scalp. "I married Draco Malfoy," she wailed.

George chuckled. "This is a joke, right?"

"If it is," Ginny snapped, "then it's a really awful one!"

His laughter died instantly. He cursed lowly. "How in the name of Merlin's trousers did that happen?"

"I was drunk," Hermione cried. "Ron left at the ball, I was upset, so I started drinking. Draco was there -"

"You call him Draco?!"

She ignored that. "I don't remember much... I don't remember our wedding..."

"Maybe you aren't really married then! He could be trying to get a rouse out of you -"

Her nails dug further. "I saw the certificate! We're married!"

George shifted sitting beside her. He wrapped his arms over her holding her close letting her soak his magenta work robe. It wasn't until then that she noticed how badly she was shaking, her teeth rattling.

"Is there anything we can do," he asked whether to her or to Ginny she wasn't certain, but it was Ginny who answered.

"She made a deal with Malfoy. In return for his help in annulling - making the marriage legally void - she'll stay married to him for two weeks."

"How long -"

"A week and a day."

He pushed her back, and she tried to wipe her tears and hair out of her face. "Where are you staying?"

"In his -" she hiccuped, "vacation house. Up - north."

"You can stay with us. Angelina and I have a spare bedroom. You can stay with Ginny. Any of us for that matter."

She shook her head. "What - good will - that do? What kind of - marriage - is - that? I made - a deal."

"Your leg," he said, his tone dangerous and dark like she had never heard before. "Is he hurting you?"

"No," she said hurriedly. "He's been - wonderful."

"Great," George grumbled, "I don't have a reason to kill him. Unless you particularly want to be a widow? You may get all of his money."

"No!" Hermione stared him scandalized but inside was pleased to see him smile back.

"All right, Hermione. You have my word, I won't tell anyone, but you also have my word that if he does anything to you that you don't like I will personally throttle him."

Her throat constricted with emotion. She hugged him tightly. "Thank you, George."

***

Waiting. That was all he was doing lately. Waiting for his money. Waiting for the annulment papers (that took quite a lot of money and a great sob story to get as early as he did without bringing Hermione into court). Waiting for Theo's test drives to be over. Waiting for him to sign _those_ papers to buy the wretched things. Now he waited for Hermione to come home.

It sounded so sweet to Draco. Her coming home to him. He reveled in that thought as long as he dared for he wouldn't able to think it much longer.

Then the waiting was over. Green flames erupted and out stepped Hermione, but just as he opened his mouth to welcome her he shut it. Her face was tear streaked, her shoulders shaking in a silent sob. Then without warning she dropped her cane and lunged herself at him.

Draco staggered back into the couch, her falling on top of him, her legs between his, her arms circling his neck. His grunt of surprise didn't deter her from crying into his neck, and he was glad. He closed his arms around her.

"Hermione, love, what's wrong?"

She sobbed harder. Concluding that it was best not to speak just yet he moved her legs over his cradling her against him like a small child. He rocked her back and forth feeling the warm tears trickling down his neck.

When she had composed herself, she leaned back taking deep drinks of the air. "George knows..."

He didn't ask why, still opting that it was better not to talk. He listened.

"He knows... He knew I was hiding something, he knew Ginny was lying... We had to tell him... I'm sorry, Draco. I'm so sorry..."

"Shhh," he cooed. "It's okay... He won't tell, will he?"

"No... He promised."

"Then it'll all work out." He cursed himself for saying that. He didn't want things to work out. He wanted everyone to know that they were married, though he preferred to say happily married. He doubted "happily" could ever be a phrase that would describe Hermione in their partnership.

"I thought I could get through this without anyone knowing. It would be a secret between us."

He bit his tongue. Get through it? Like it was that unbearable? He was tempted to hand her the damn papers in his pocket so she wouldn't have to bear him any longer.

"This is harder than I thought it would be..."

His hold became unyielding as he twisted to lie down. He brought her with him, and she didn't fight it, she laid on his chest, curled up between his legs.

"I missed you, Draco. I missed you so much."

He stopped breathing, staring at the top of her head. Shakily he exhaled and kissed the part in her hair. "I missed you too."

"We were only apart for a day..."

Was he brave enough to think that when she said it was harder than she thought she was actually talking about being away from him? That seemed to be too good to be true, and he rather not know. Ignorance in that case was bliss.

She cried until she fell asleep. He listened until he did too, with her in his arms. They fell asleep together for the first time, and it was heaven.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

The Sky's The Limit

It took near three hours for Hermione's leg to be put right, but once it was it was as though no injury had come to it. She walked, jogged, and ran in the small room as tests, and passed every one of them (she had yet to fail a test completely). She thanked the elder doctor many times. In a thick Austria accent he assured her he was glad to help.

Draco stayed outside lingering in the hallway. He stopped his nervous pacing and cautiously smiled as she came out, but if the pacing wasn't enough the lines in his face suggested that he was worried. As he watched her walk without a limp they disappeared into the smooth planes of his face.

Hermione bent her knee putting her weight on it to show him. "All better," she announced.

He raised his arms and she walked into him, embracing his waist happily. They stayed there for moments. If anyone was passing or watching, they didn't notice. She was lost in his hold and intoxicating scent. She felt overwhelmed at how caring he was to wait for her, to pace and be worried.

"Thank you," she mumbled into his chest.

"Why are you thanking me, you silly girl?"

"For taking care of me."

"Hermione," he groaned but couldn't finish, she interrupted him.

"Don't," she leaned from him, his hands not leaving her waist, "I don't want to hear how guilty you feel."

He gave her a fierce stare before giving a jerk of his head in a nod. He took her hand and steered her down the hall to leave. "Fine, whatever you want."

She smiled a little surprised and very pleased at how easily he was giving up. "Glad you see it that way."

"But I do think we should celebrate."

She rolled her eyes upward. She'd never heard something so superfluous. It wasn't like she was on her deathbed and been finally declared as "cured." "That's not necessary."

He pretended as though he hadn't heard her. "Have you ever flown across the Atlantic?"

Every muscle in her body tensed at the mere thought of being high above the sea. He had no idea of her greatest fear. "I don't fly," she mumbled incoherently.

He stopped near the end of the corridor pulling her into a corner as if that would conceal them and conceal them from what she didn't know, they were alone. He dramatically bent his ear to her mouth. "What?"

"I don't fly," she told him a little louder.

Draco raised his brows and smiled widely. "Really?" This seem to greatly amuse him.

"Really. I don't like it. It's too high."

"You're afraid of heights."

"Not exactly, I'm just afraid of flying when you can fall at any time."

His smile turned from arrogant to comforting in a blink of an eye. "I won't let you fall, Hermione. You'll be safe with me. I know it's ironic to say that considering what happened three days ago, but it's true. I won't let you fall. I'm much better on a broom than I am in a car."

"I know you wouldn't let me fall." She did know that. Deep in her gut she knew that he would never let anything happen to her. The car was an accident, one that he wouldn't forgive himself for, that was for certain. "I just don't like it, Draco."

"Aren't you the same Witch who flew a dragon out of Gringotts?"

She flinched at that memory. Harry had the bruises on his stomach for a long time after that day from where she clutched him with all the life that was in her. She had sobbed the whole time, the beat of the wings threatening to throw her off. She would rather Draco drive than have her fly with him.

He touched her cheek gently. "Trust me, love."

"You're so daft. Of course I trust you." What she didn't trust was the distance, the water they would fly over, the wind, and anything that would cause them to fall to their deaths.

"Then trust me to fly you over the most beautiful sight you will ever see."

She didn't know why she thought it, but she doubted that there was anything more beautiful than him at that time, his glowing face, his smile, his glittering eyes, it was the same expression he had when he flew, she remembered it in their school days when he would play in the Quidditch matches.

She didn't know why she said it, but she wanted to, and she was lost and dazed. Looking at him then was like looking into the sun. She wanted to be with him even if it was high in the air. "Then fly me, Draco."

***

Draco hadn't honestly expected her to say yes to flying with him, not after he learned of her fear. But she did say yes and his heart flew with exultation. He would do anything to make it the best experience for her possible.

He took her home (what he had noticed he'd started calling his vacation house) and took the broom out of the closet. There were many in there all hanging on hooks. He picked the best one, the latest one, the Firebolt Professional with a personal leather pack hanging off the side. It would be perfect.

"Draco," she asked nervously. "How can we fly over the Atlantic? Won't we be seen?"

He chuckled and walked past her to the kitchen. He opened the fridge and packed various foods of apples, crackers, cheese and grapes. "This is the greatest broom there is. It has every feature you can imagine, including invisibility. No one will be able to see us."

That bit of news didn't appear to comfort her much, she continued to still look as though she would vomit at any time. Quickly, before she could decide against the escapade, he seized her wrist and lead her outside to the garden.

White fluff clouded the sky, the air still. It was the perfect day for flying. Alas, this was only his opinion. Hermione obviously had vastly different feelings, she was shaking and they hadn't mounted the broom yet.

Draco set it floating at his waist and threw a leg over. He held out a hand to her and wiggled his fingers when she didn't move. She looked to be in more trepidation than ever, but as he was close to what she would call whining she laid her hand in his and climbed behind him.

"Go slow," she begged, her voice trembling.

Since she couldn't see him he allowed himself to smirk. He loved the way her body was pressed flush against his back, her arms clasped around his midsection, prepared for him to blast off without warning. He thought her fear was wonderful because he loved flying and it was a brilliant reason to be close to her, to feel the length of her on him. Even her feet were on his.

He couldn't stop himself. He grazed his fingertips over her arm from her wrist to her elbow. She shivered and he swallowed a moan. He pulled her arm tighter as if she wasn't constricting him with all of her strength. She couldn't be close enough for him.

"Draco," she groaned miserably.

"All right, all right," he responded thickly. "Get ready."

Although she'd asked him to go slow his heart was racing, blood pounding in his ears and he pushed off the ground a lot harder than he meant to. She yelled a high-pitched scream into his ear as the fought against their flight. Though he was certain he was going deaf he didn't stop nor did he slow down. In fact, he flew faster, his knees squeezing his broom as his ribs bent to break under Hermione's death grip.

"Draco! Stop! Please stop!"

The ground sped beneath them, the miniature houses and cars. He couldn't imagining being afraid of it all. It was all thrilling, freeing. There were no roads in the sky, no restrictions. He could go anywhere, do anything, but he went straight, and he did nothing but obey her wishes. He slowed to a snails pace. It was annoying for him, but she stopped screaming... She was sobbing and mumbling something that sounded like, "don't look down."

He sent out a booming laugh. Right then, away from her friends, worries, and rules he was on top of the world. He was literally flying over it.

"Someone might hear," she wept.

He let out another vicarious laugh, not to just irritate her, but because even living one of her worst fears she was still very much Hermione. Still very much the goody-two-shoes he loved.

"I think someone might have heard you first," he called behind him.

"You're horrible!"

"You're beautiful."

"You're shallow," she lied.

"I know," he lied back.

Within fifteen minutes they were like birds over the Atlantic ocean, seemingly smooth as glass. He didn't have to glance to know that she had her eyes closed.

"Open them, Hermione."

"No," she said, a small break in her sobs.

"Trust me." He felt like he was saying that a lot that day.

When her convulsions worsened he knew that she did as he said. There was a twinge of guilt at making her fear worse, but he wanted her to see what she could've missed.

Comparatively it was like their marriage. If he hadn't charmed her, kept buying her drinks, she wouldn't have married him. If he didn't tell her to open her eyes she might have missed what could be. She could be happy with him. They could be a happy ending. Rip out the last chapter and he would write his own. What was so wrong with that? He may have been the villain in her story, but in his she was the outshining goddess.

There was only one problem with his theory though... Hermione would never deface a book...

It was another fifteen minutes until they reached their destination. A grassy cliff jutting out into the ocean. It was part of England, a good ways from home. It was far from any villages and prying eyes apart those of the seagulls. He had found it one day while he aimlessly flew. He swore that if he ever found a woman worthy he would take her. Now he worried if the cliff was worthy of her.

Hew flew lower until his trainers were skimming the overgrown grass. He stopped but had no inclination to leave his position with Hermione. He wondered how long he could stay there, but as the seconds past he wondered if he could move if he wanted to.

She was shaking terribly, her grip not slacking in the least. He felt a warm heat between his shoulder blades and realized that she was crying. Truly crying.

He leapt off the Firebolt breaking her hold. She hunched over, her cheeks wet, her entire being jerking. "Not again. Please, not again."

Draco brought her into his arms and gently carried her off the broom. He set her on the ground kissing her hair. "It's okay," he soothed. "It's over. You won't have to fly again. ever. I'll make sure of it." If he knew that she'd be so distressed he would've never suggested flying, even if it meant it would be at the expense of having her close to him. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I should've listened to you. I'm sorry."

She shook her head, but her grabbed her fingers in her hair, keeping her motionless. "We'll apparate back," he promised.

"Okay," she sniffled, calming at those words. "Thank you."

***

While Draco unpacked their food, Hermione relaxed in the spot where she was sat. She leaned back, her elbows into the earth, the tears drying on the back of her sleeve, and peered out over he scene, forgetting the horrible travel to see it.

It was one of the most amazing sights. The sun was inching its way over the sky spilling orange, the ocean darkening from its mirror blue to a silky black. She felt disconnected form the world, as though she were apart of it, a part of the cliff that could witness such beauty everyday.

Draco knelt beside her when she saw a shatter in the water's surface, a sizable killer whale coming up for breath. She pointed out to it and cried, "did you see that?!"

"Yeah, I did," he assured lamely.

"Wasn't that incredible?"

"Very," he sighed.

She glimpsed at him. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no, everything's great," he said without conviction, his eyes someplace else over the horizon.

"I don't believe you."

He turned to her, pressing a stem of green grapes into her palm. "I was thinking that if we didn't have a deal, I'd make love to you here."

She blinked keeping her eyes closed as to not see him when she asked what she must, because he was too honest than she wanted. "Please don't do this?" She didn't mean that, she wanted to, but what she wanted the most was to justify it to herself. She couldn't.

"I won't." He curled his arm over her back and swept his lips across he cheek. "We won't. We'll stay like this."

She wished she had something to hold on to, anything to stop her descent into the feelings she was developing for the man beside her. Instead she fell into him, resting her head on his shoulder. She was physically and emotionally tired of the fight, the thread she was grasping, and the relentless search of comfort to release it all and let herself fall.

Together, alone and silent they watched the orange fade to purple and the purple fade to black. It was long after when they stood and disapparated home.

Neither one spoke a word as she went to bed and he went to the couch. They went their separate ways, but while Hermione sunk into the bed she tried to ignore the pull she felt towards the couch.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Moonlight Truth

When Hermione woke the next morning she saw the slip of parchment on the bedside table. It was crumpled and set at a diagonal angle from her like it was thrown there in a haste. She had a sinking feeling as she read it.

_Hermione,_

_I have to go into work today. Sorry. Do whatever you want. Food's in the fridge, books in the lounge. I'll be back as soon as I can._

_Draco_

_P.S. I love you_

Her stomach plummeted in a way she could only recognize as disappointment. She hated to admit it, but she was looking forward to a day with him. It was even more troublesome that she had admitted it to herself and found that it was very true. It was as if she was hoping for an alternative. Something other than the truth.

She threw the note back to the bedside table the way she had found it. She stretched her arms and legs and stood letting the blanket fall from her.

Uselessness soon replaced the emotion of disappointment. She wasn't going back to work until the end of the month. Last month she had been spending all of her free time with Harry and the Weasley's. The past month, due to her stupidity she had been spending it with Draco. Draco was gone, so was Harry, and she didn't feel up to spending any time with the Weasley's. Not even Ginny and George who knew her shameful secret. Especially not them. There was Luna, but she was too perceptive... She would see through her facade.

What should she do? She looked out the window, not having bothered closing them last night. It was a beautiful day, clear, the clouds gone from yesterday. She could take her books out on the balcony and enjoy the sun. Yes, that was what she would do...

***

Curse his boss for making him come into work early. Curse his work for he didn't need it with all of his money, simply a hobby he got paid to do. Curse the numerous paper planes flying in that needed to be dealt with. Curse anything and everything that took him away from Hermione for one second.

Draco wanted to send her an owl, wanting to know how she was fairing. Was she missing him as he was missing her? Of course, he couldn't actually ask that, and if he did, she was sure to tell a lie. Not that she was a good liar, he could see right through it, but either way, he would know... But maybe he didn't want to know the truth. Maybe the lie in his head was better than anything she could say, notably if it began with that sympathetic tone she used. It was condescending, and unnecessary. He loved her, she knew this, and that was all that mattered unless she decided to give in and return it.

Most of all he cursed Weasley for having her first because if it was Draco he would have made sure to never let her go. However, as much as he hated the Weasel, as much as he always hated but more now than ever, he couldn't help but think if Hermione would have gone to him anyway. Weasley never needed to get her drunk, to try _at all_ to get her to see that they were meant to be.

They weren't meant to be. The Weasel wasn't good enough for her, and Draco was. Draco could be everything to Hermione, if only Hermione would see that.

That was why every paper airplane Draco sent back was slow and crumpled. He was angry. It flew through him faster than he was flying last night. One plane died in mid-air, and he cursed aloud swiping the papers from his desk in a flurry and he stood flipping his chair over.

He was losing it... He was really losing it... Over her... It was all because of her... Everything was... His love... His loss... His sight into the peaceful world he lived in... Because of her... If he lost her, he very well would lose his mind... And he would be glad... He would be grateful...

He set about picking up the falling papers scattered over his office, the chair with the broken leg that he bent to repair. He had to hold himself together or he would crack before he would know if she wanted him or the damn Weasel.

He decided then that he would cool his overheated jealous body in the pond of his vacation home. He would stay there for a while before coming inside so she wouldn't have to see him out of control.

Curse him. He loved her more than he should.

***

When it became too dark to read, the waning moon not providing sufficient light, she laid her second book on top of the first on the table. Without looking over the balcony, she rubbed her tired eyes and walked through the house like she had been there forever, going out to the garden to lie under the stars, to lose herself in them as she pondered over the stories she had read.

The warm air comforting like a familiar blanket, she raised her arms to the sky stretching on her toes letting them fall, and sighing, but she then stopped cold in her tracks by what she saw ahead.

Draco stood in the shallow of the pond, the water flowing over his ankles. He was wearing only jean shorts, darkened by the water, clinging to him, his bare chest glittering with droplets, the betraying moon giving spotlight to his chiseled features. His hair was wet and slicked back resembling the boy she used to know, but that was lost when he brilliantly smiled at her, he instantly became the man she had come to know through their insane last-minute marriage.

And she knew then, that she was in love with him. It did not matter what she said or did henceforth. She was in too deep, had gone too far, to stop then, and as she recognized it, her love for him, it was very much like being kicked in the stomach, but it didn't enable her ability to stride towards him. She was near jogging, but she couldn't get there fast enough for her liking. She had to do this, she had to know. What would it feel like? What would happen if she let herself go?

His smile faltered. She couldn't fathom the look on her face. She went straight into the water, the cold leaking through her trainers, soaking her jeans. Draco opened his mouth to most likely ask her why she'd lost her mind, but when she touched his cheek he closed it deciding against whatever it was he was going to say.

She glanced down. His arms were hanging limply at his sides, his hands in the water. She saw the black tattoo of the Dark Mark overshadowed by him.

He leaned his forehead on hers. "You figured it out," he whispered.

She answered by wrapping her arms around his neck, leaning up, and pressing her lips on his. The electricity was nothing compared to holding his hand or hugging him. It was fire, sparks, it shot through her with such force that the only reason she was still standing was because Draco was holding her up, a hand on her lower back, the other under her hair on her neck. They clutched each other tighter, not able to breathe, and not caring.

She assumed that he would be an expert kisser, but his lips trembled on hers. He probably was an expert, but he was either too cold or too wrapped up and Hermione didn't care which it was, because it was perfect.

When they absolutely needed to breathe they broke apart. Draco tangled her hair in his fingers holding her gaze to his, his lids heavy, eyes darker. She knew she didn't look much different.

"Hermione," he groaned, "are you sure about this?"

Her eyes stung. "I can't go back."

"If you admit a mistake, he will forgive you. Don't think this is your only choice."

"I'll never forgive myself for what I've done to him. I know he'd forgive me, but I can't forgive myself. Not for what I'm doing."

"Then why are you doing it?"

She steadied herself for her final mistake, the mistake she already made. "I'm in love with you... I love you, Draco."

***

When he heard the words he'd been literally losing his mind to hear, breathless didn't cover it. He was more than breathless. She had stolen his lungs, every part of him. There was no going back. There was no changing the surreal dream he was in. He had her. He had what he'd wanted for so long. He touched her neck, shoulders, he kissed her forehead, inhaled the sweet smell of her hair, he touched her arms, hands, stomach, her waist, her legs. He touched whatever part of her body he came across to just know that she was there, with him. That she loved him. She meant it.

"Hermione," he croaked, fighting for the air that left him. "Say it again."

"I love you."

He kissed her lips, bruising them, his fingers digging into her legs. "Say it again," he ordered against her.

"I love you, Draco."

He kissed her again. She was his air. He breathed properly with her. "I've waited so long... I've waited ages to hear you say that."

"I love you."

"And I love you. I love you so much, it's unbearable."

She gripped her hands at his sides. She could have been drawing blood, but he didn't care. Nothing existed, not even pain, while he was with her. Not while he was kissing her.

Gradually he led her down into the mud, the water coming over her waist soaking her shirt. He kissed her collar bone and lifted up. Her stomach was beautiful, her rib cage, her breasts slightly spilling over the edge of her laced bra. Everything about her was beautiful and was only illuminated by the moonlight. He shed the clinging shirt and as she shivered from the cold he placed himself over her giving her his body heat.

"You can't go back," he warned her. He wanted her to know the implications her actions would cause.

"I know," she said strongly.

"Once you give yourself to me, you're with me for life. Do you understand that?"

"Don't insult my intelligence. I do."

He closed his eyes. "I'm not insulting you, love. Please, think about it, because right now I can stop. I can get up and go inside. We can end this right now if you wish. But if I go further... I don't know if I can stop... Please think about it."

She held his face like he had held hers. "I have thought about it. Even if we don't make love right now, I can't stop. Don't make me."

He chuckled though there was no humor in it. "I would never make you stop loving me. It's all I ever wanted."

Rain began sprinkling on them but neither of them moved. Draco concentrated on unbuttoning her jeans as she nibbled the lobe of his ear. They were too far gone to notice such trivial things.

* * *

A/N: I know some of you were wondering when Hermione would give in, and it was about time that she fell off that line she'd been teetering on. However, the story is not over. There is twenty-one chapters.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Fire

In Draco's defense he had tried to take her inside after their time in the pond. He hadn't gotten as far as the entrance of the lounge when he took her on the floor. They laid there beside the couch as it mocked them.

Hermione smiled happily looking over at her lover, her husband. He slept soundly and naked, but had dried nicely inside of the warmth of the house. Hermione's hair had remained damp, a salute to what they had done. Proof, as if them lying there naked wasn't enough.

She slipped out of his arm draped over her waist and padded to the bathroom where she took a hot shower and afterwards skipped to the bedroom where she dressed in dry clothes. When she exited Draco still lied there in the same position, not having moved at all.

He appeared to be innocent and sweet, but this was only when he slept. His hands looked soft and unlikely to ever cause harm though she knew he had in his days as a Death Eater. It was much like his mouth that was relaxed and seemingly less thin, and it too looked as if it would never cause harm. She knew it from first hand experience that it had. It had caused a lot of grief to a lot of people in Hogwarts.

In her last moments of consciousness last night on the floor next to him she worried that she would regret her rash actions. She had acted without thought. Just like the night of her wedding... But she could sit there now, on the arm of the couch and say that she didn't regret any of it. It was not because of his innocent appearance, she knew better than that. It was because she had fallen. She had let go of that thread she'd been grasping to.

She was in love with Draco Malfoy, and there was nothing she could do about it. It was too late.

_What about Ron?_ She couldn't help but think of him even in her euphoric state. She did love him. She would always love him. She just couldn't love him in the same way. It wasn't that it lessened, or magically disappeared, it simply did not hold a candle to what she felt for Draco. She didn't have a choice anymore. She didn't want the annulment. She wanted Draco.

She was in a quite a mess and she didn't know if she could fix it. She knew it that it was probable that her family would never forgive her, but if that was all the retribution she would get from her actions then she would accept it. It was nothing less than what she deserved. She would cause them pain, strife, she would betray them further. But how could she live her life in a lie? She wouldn't be able to be with Ron and it wasn't fair to him. To either of them.

Draco then opened his eyes, immediately resting on her own. He smiled fleetingly, it turned into unease. "What's wrong?"

"What," she asked, but she felt her cheeks and saw there on her fingertips that she was crying. "Oh."

Steadily he stood and visibly tensed as if preparing for the worst. "You regret it," he said in a dead voice.

"No, I don't," she responded calmly. "I'm just thinking about my family." She shook her head shaking the thoughts out as well. "You know we would have had three days left?" The countdown didn't matter anymore, not now that she wasn't annulling their marriage. She couldn't anyhow, they had used their only way out of it, by consummating it.

He grinned placing himself between her knees. "I know. I almost ran out of time. I was beginning to think I wouldn't win you."

She scrunched up her nose in offense. "I'm not a prize, Draco."

He shrugged, not answering her. "Do you want something to eat?"

"Yes, I'm starving."

"I'll go get dressed and cook." He kissed her cheek and left to the bedroom.

Hermione slumped into the couch, her legs over the armrest. She felt inexpressibly content. At least she did for a few moments before she became hot, nearly scalded by fire.

She was near fire, the one that had erupted to her left bursting into emerald life. She rolled to her feet and took out her wand pointing it at the flames. There were only two people that could be coming and that would be Nott and Ginny, but there were what if's running through her mind, because there was no reason that Nott or Ginny would be coming. They had no reason to, not when Draco was intent on "winning" her and Hermione asked Ginny to leave them be.

Through the green fire came red. Ginny stepped into the room and Hermione let her wand down in relief. "Ginny?"

Tears sparkled in her doe-like eyes. "He's come home early."

"Who has?"

"Harry."

"Harry has come home early? That's great! Why aren't you with him."

She shook her head as if being misunderstood. "Ron has come home too, Hermione."

Her heart fell and so did she to the couch. "No..."

Draco came running in then, wand raised. He obviously had the same ideas as she did, but as he spotted Ginny he too placed his wand back in his pocket. "Weaslette? Why are you here?"

Ginny ignored him sitting beside Hermione. "I'm sorry..."

"What did you say to him?"

"They just came in a few minutes ago. I told them I'd come get you, that you were at your parents vacation home."

She nodded taking in her words and their meaning. She had been hopeful for the three extra days to think up of how to tell her family the news, now she had nothing and she was about to walk into her old life again, see the man she couldn't love enough.

"I think Malfoy can understand why you need to cut your deal short." She glared at him menacingly. "Don't you?" It was a dare.

Hermione sucked in a breath. "Ginny... The deal is off..."

"Hermione -"

"Stop," she said, knowing what she was going to say. "I love him, Ginny."

Ginny was shaking with anger. "And my brother? What about him?"

She looked tearfully at her. "I love your brother but I don't love him the same way."

She stood shaking her vivid red hair that resembled fire more then than it ever had. "He isn't good enough for you? You know, he joined the Auror's _for_ you. He thought it would make enough money for both of you. To keep _you_ happy. Do you care about that at all?"

"He shouldn't have done that!"

She pointed an accusing finger at her. "That's why he didn't tell you! He wanted to do this for you, Hermione, but did you ever care at all for him?"

Hermione thought that was too low. After all they had been through how could her best friend think that of her? She stood up with just as much anger. "How dare you say that I don't care for him?! I care for all of you!"

"Not enough!"

She cried, tears rolling in streams. "No! Not enough! I don't want to, I wish I didn't have to -"

"What has he done to you?!"

"Nothing, he's done everything for me -"

"And Ron hasn't -"

"I LOVE RON!" Her throat was closing up, her eyes hurting from the stinging tears. "I don't want to do this. I don't want to hurt any of you..."

"I can see that," she spat bitterly.

"I can't lie about this!"

"No," Ginny said softly, more dangerously. "You can't lie to us any_more_." She spun on her heels heading into the hearth.

"Wait, Ginny, are you going to tell?"

She laughed coldly. "That's something you have to do, Hermione. We'll be expecting you in an hour. They need to hear this for themselves." In a flash of green, a yell of "the Burrow," and she was gone.

***

Draco didn't know what to say. Hermione collapsed on the couch staring into space her tears drying, her face pulled into the concentration that he loved. He really did wish he knew what to say, but all he could think was the time they lost to keep their secret for what it was. A secret. Their three days were gone before they had them. It was back to reality...

He put a hand on her trembling shoulder. "I'll go with you," he said. He didn't want to. Nothing displeased him more than being in the company of the Weasley's and Scarhead. For her... For her he would do anything.

"No. I need to do this alone."

"I'm here. You'll come back to me." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," she agreed. She pulled herself to her feet and hugged him over the couch. "I'll come back." Then she let go of him and went to the hearth. She smiled and said, "I love you," and disappeared into emerald fire, calling out the name of her boyfriend's old home.

Something horrible occurred to him as he watched her leave. What if she saw the Weasel and fell in love with him again? Decided that their fling was a ruse, and she'd want the annulment papers?

It hurt his head to think of it, but he knew he'd give her the papers to sign. He'd give her anything. Even a ginger-headed Weasel. If it's what she wanted...


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Burning At The Stake

The first sounds Hermione heard when she arrived at the Burrow were happy chattering. Dread filled her as she placed on a fake smile, made sure that her eyes weren't deceiving her and creating tears. They weren't.

In the kitchen the whole family had gathered. Arthur and Molly, George, Bill and Fleur, Percy, Charlie, Ginny and Harry and Ron. They all stood huddled together only George and Percy using the table, George's feet on it until Molly scolded him and slapped him over the head gently. Hermione laughed silently.

She tried to quietly come into the room, but Ron had seen her and shouted alerting the rest to her presence, Ginny glowering in a way she'd never witnessed before.

Ron ran over pushing Harry aside and swept her up in his strong arms. Hermione hugged him back, but it wasn't with as much feeling as she remembered. He looked wonderful, just as handsome as before, a light stubble over his face from the time he wasn't able to shave. He kissed her then on the lips, scratching her in the process.

She waited for the swooping feeling, but it didn't happen not even as she inhaled his woodsy scent. It was gone, not the scent - that was there - but her feelings. They weren't there. But Ron hadn't noticed it.

"OY! We're here, you know," George teased but it sounded tense. Was she only imagining these things?

Ron let her go, her feet settling back on the floor. "I've missed you, Hermione."

She choked, "I've missed you too." At least it was true. She had missed him.

Ginny huffed, but she was ignored Ron wrapping an arm around Hermione's waist. She stiffened in his hold. Guilt came crashing down on her again. She was burning, suffocating. She was going to surely die at the stake.

"Come outside with me, I've got something to show you!"

Harry chuckled, Molly beamed, Ginny looked on in dismay, but before Hermione could answer Ron was leading her outside into the sun where it blinded her more horribly than the days before when it had shone just as bright. It was a spotlight on her and the truth.

Ron pulled her along near the overgrown patches of weeds that were the unsuccessful attempts at growing something. Aimless and clumsy, knobby gnomes stumbled and fell around. It would've been funny as it usually was if it weren't for the truth that she was about to tell.

They were alone. It was her chance. _Now or never_, she told herself.

"Ron, we have to talk."

"Me first," he said eagerly.

"Ron -"

"Please," he asked excitedly. "Let me go first. You can tell me whatever you like afterwards, alright?"

She nodded. "Okay."

He took both of her hands in his. "Hermione," he started as if on the beginning of a speech. "I love you. I've been in love with you for longer than I've realized. I'm sorry it took me ages to see it but here we are now. We're together, and we're safe. We've survived everything. Together. I want to be together for the rest of our lives." He got on his knees.

Hermione gasped and pulled hoping to draw him up but Ron wasn't budging. He released one of her hands and reached into his pocket. He took a small box out and flipped the lid open showing a single and quite large solitaire ring glittering in the sun.

"This was what I was getting before I left, it's why I was late to the ball."

He did want to marry her. She'd been wrong when she thought he was being inconsiderate by making her wait...

"Will you marry me, Hermione Granger?"

She shook her head, she kept shaking her head, opening her mouth, but no words were coming. There were the tears she had expected, they were rolling down her neck. She wished for time to freeze so she could escape. She could go far, far away and never come back. She didn't want to hurt him, but it was more than that, she didn't want to hurt _herself_. It was impossible to hurt Ron without doing the same to herself.

Ron continued smiling, pleased that he was able to catch her off-guard and surprise her. He was easy to read.

"George," Molly hissed out the open door.

George strolled out shaking his head as well. "Stand up, Ron, you're making an idiot out of yourself."

His ears burned red, he looked embarrassed. "George! I'm in the middle of something here!"

"I see that."

"Did I do this to you?"

"No, I asked her alone, in case Angelina had something _important_ to tell me. Like if she was secretly _married_ to my archenemy."

While Ron furrowed his brows contemplating what his older brother was saying Hermione whipped her hands out of his, and George embraced her. He whispered in her ear. "Go home. I'll take care of things here."

"I can't let you do that," she sobbed.

"They won't kill me, but Ginny may kill you. Go home and when I say home I mean to Malfoy."

"Thank you, George."

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I wished you could've been my sister."

"I wish it too."

"Go on."

She left his arms and turned her back to her ex-boyfriend on his knees and her friend - his brother who bowed to explain. She went into the house, Ginny storming outside. The rest were in a state of confusion.

"Hermione," Harry called trying to grab her arm as she walked past him. She couldn't see any of them, not properly, she was blinded by her sorrow. Her heart broke for them - for herself.

"Hermione," Harry called again, but there was a roaring in her ears. The fire. She was going home.

***

Eight minutes. He counted each one on his watch. He knew it could be hours until she returned, but Draco didn't remove himself from his spot behind the couch, his hands on the back of it. He wanted to be there when - if she walked through. He wanted to know the second he could of her decision. It was only last night when he'd have put his life on the line on the fact that she _had_ made her decision and it was him. Now he was less certain.

They had made love only hours ago. How could she have gone back to that Weasel? If she'd gone back. Nothing was set in stone. Not yet.

He looked to his watch again. And again. Ten minutes.

The hearth glowed and died and Hermione stepped in. She was crying but he didn't move to comfort her.

"George is telling them," was all she said and she spoke it so broken that he doubted whether it was what she uttered.

He moved from his place to the couch to stand in front of her. He held her shoulders. He should have said a million things, all along the lines of if she was sure, that she could go back, that she didn't have to stay with him, but he didn't say any of those things. Instead, being the horrid man he was, said, "good."

"I should tell them myself," she blubbered.

"And I should let you," he said honestly, "but I'm not going to. That's your reprieve."

"Draco -"

"Lay down. Rest. I'll bring you tea."

"This isn't fair."

"Nothing's fair, love. Sit. Rest."

And she did. She sat and he went to make tea all the while peeping out to make sure she was still there and she was. None of it should have made him happy but it did.

The Weasel lost and Draco won. Hermione would be alright in time. She would happy. They did what he meant them to. They changed their ending and what did everyone else's happiness matter as long as they were happy? Surely Hermione wouldn't be happy until they would be, but they would be. Eventually…

"Draco," Hermione beckoned and he left the pot of tea on the cooker coming back. She felt him behind her. "I want to go home."

"Today?"

She nodded.

"After tea," he promised.

She nodded a second time.

_Eventually might be a long time..._


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

One Mistake

Hermione woke before the sun to pack. She had packed and doubled checked every crevice of the bedroom (that had only gotten its use by both her _and_ Draco once last night so he wouldn't have to sleep on the couch) to be sure she wasn't forgetting anything. After all, she wasn't there when Draco packed for her to begin with.

Drake wouldn't be coming with them. Not right away. One of them would have to make an extra trip to get him as their hands would be full. Draco insisted on taking a few things back, like the painting he drew of her.

Her early rise wasn't because she was in a hurry to be home, she was only in a hurry to be home to fix things. It wasn't like Ron didn't know. They all knew, but she would make it easier on him if possible. He shouldn't have to see the evidence of her marriage there. She would put everything back to where it belonged.

However, when her and Draco walked into her lounge, her suitcase thudded to the floor in surprise, and Draco cursed under his breath because it was obvious then that Ron had seen, and he hadn't taken it well.

Blue glass sparkled on the floor, every single vase broken, the flowers in a heap among it burnt black.

"Oh, Ron," she moaned. She had hurt him. She ruined a nine year relationship in twelve days.

"He's a sore loser," Draco observed.

She spun on him, her anger bursting. "Stop that! Stop talking about this like it was a game!" She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Or was it a game to you? Do you find this - ruining my friends - amusing?"

The spot on his jaw twitched. "No, I don't. I'd never find your pain amusing. This isn't a game, Hermione, but he did lose you and it's quite clear -" he waved his hand over the room in show "- That he's not gracious about it."

Hermione took a deep breath, ready to apologize, but then Harry walked in from the hall looking irritated and tired, his untidy black hair more-so.

"What are you doing here, Scarhead?"

Harry paid him no notice, his bright green eyes for his friend. "So it's true?"

"George isn't that bad of a sport," she said. "He knows where to draw the line, he wouldn't lie."

He nodded. "I know." There was no hatred or bitterness in his tone. That gave Hermione hope.

"Harry, I'm sorry -"

He held up his hand for silence. "Save it," he told her cuttingly. "I just came to clean up after Ron, and I was told to give you this." He seized her hand briefly to press something small into it.

Hermione looked down at the ring, tears welling in her eyes. She didn't let them spill over. "Harry please -"

"I love you, Hermione. So does Ron - in a different way. He's giving you a choice. I don't know what has possessed you to be with Malfoy of all people but I urge you to think of what you're doing. He's been there, Ron will always be there, and he's giving you the benefit of the doubt. We both know how much that means. He trusts you."

"Harry -"

"George told us about the deal," he continued as if he didn't hear her. "Keep to it. You have two days to decide." He glared at her meaningfully. "Make the right choice. You always do."

"Don't do this, Harry..."

"No, don't _you_ do this, Hermione. Is he worth it? Is _Malfoy_ worth everyone that's stood beside you?"

"I don't have a choice."

He grasped her empty hand, squeezing it. "Yes, you do." He swallowed visibly as he spied the wedding rings on her finger.

Tears blurred her sight. "You don't understand. I tried not to love him. I tried so hard, but it was all worthless! I love Ron, but I love Draco, and I can't turn back now."

He squeezed her so forceful it hurt but then he let go. "You have two days." Then he strolled into the fireplace, leaving.

***

If he could have gotten by with it he would've cursed Potter. Not only did he make Hermione emotional when she had been doing so well he hadn't even cleaned up the place like he insinuated he was going to do.

Hermione cried softly as she stared at the ring in her palm. Draco wanted to wrench it from her and throw it out. He didn't know that the bloody Weasel proposed to her.

Yet, it made him feel marginally better. If Weasel had proposed and she still came back to Draco and Weasel caused damage to her lounge then it was clear that she didn't say yes. But she didn't say no. Weasley wouldn't have sent Potter with the ring if she had been that adamant.

Suddenly, he felt out of place. He took out his wand and cleaned up the mess, the vases returned to their places in the corners of the room, and he brought life back to the carnations setting them in the renewed vases.

Hermione sat on the couch not once taking her eyes off of the wretched ring.

Jealousy boiled inside of him. Oh how he detested that feeling.

"Love," he said, forcing himself to remain calm. "I have to leave."

"What," she asked, confused. "Why?"

"Because Potter gave you your deal back. This is a decision you should make yourself."

She laughed hollowly. "Our deal is void, Draco. We consummated our marriage. We can't get an annulment.

"We'll lie."

"I don't want an annulment."

"Then why haven't you looked at me since Scarhead came in?"

Her head snapped up, shocked at his harsh voice. What should she expect when she was killing him?

"I'm sorry."

He felt his heart being jerked out of his chest by sharp claws. "Don't be. Look under the loose floorboard in the guestroom, and make your choice, Hermione, for all of us."

Then, like Potter, he left too, and he pretended he didn't see her cry, and he acted like it had no effect on him, but it did. Once the swirling of gates stopped he fell on all fours in the lounge of his vacation home.

"I'm sorry, mate," someone said those horrid words he was hating.

Draco glimpsed up and saw Theo stretched out on his couch. He didn't ask and didn't have to.

"The Weaslette owled me," he explained, "reckon you'd come here."

"Don't want to see my parents," he said standing and shaking off the soot like he cared. "I don't want to see you," he added.

"Sure you do. I have Fire Whiskey in the kitchen."

He ambled past Theo into the kitchen, to the lined bottles of burning liquid on the island. It would burn his senses away and he needed that, he needed something to fill that place in his chest that Hermione had ruthlessly ripped away.

"She was too good for you," his friend stated in the doorway.

"I know." He opened the first bottle on the island and downed half of it. It scalded the whole way, lighting him on fire.

"There's others."

He slammed the bottle down. The fire was as good as anger. "No, there isn't."

"Yes, there is. You can go out and find them. They have to be healthier than this. Hell of a lot better looking, surely."

"Fuck off, Theo. She was beautiful." Damn, was she ever beautiful. Even as he became warm and the room swam in front of him he thought of how her body felt around him. It was torture, but the sweetest he could ask for.

"She was, but she's not the only beautiful woman out there."

"She's the only one I want."

"You're in a bad place, you're drinking, you're not thinking right."

"Right, she's not here, I get that."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Everything," he answered gulping a drink again. If she was with him he wouldn't be in a bad place, he wouldn't be drinking, but he had never thought _right_, if that were so he would've been her friend instead of her enemy. Perhaps Scarhead would've been rooting for him and not the Weasel. In alternative to saving a marriage she didn't want they would be happily celebrating their one year anniversary.

One mistake...

He started on his second drink, cracking the glass as he popped the top off on the island.

One fucking mistake...


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Cracking Up

The sun set, the moon rose, and it fell, and the sun shone again, but Hermione didn't move from her spot on the couch. She curled up in the corner. Her stomach was in stabbing pain from lack of food her mouth parched dry from lack of water, but she didn't care, and didn't get up to rectify it.

The only time she got up was a few hours after Draco left to look under that loose floorboard. There in a box was all of Ron's flowers, the pictures, and a letter. There on the floor she read it.

_Hermione,_

_You're reading this which means that you chose Ron. I will not lie, even in a letter, and say that I'm not disappointed. It's worse than that, it's killing me, but I know no amount of guilt can change your mind, you're too strong for that. I want you happy, no matter who you love._

_These past two weeks have been the happiest of my life. Being with you is like finding a part of myself that I didn't know existed. Thank you for that. For giving me the time to prove how much I've changed, how much I love you, and I do love you. Always._

_Forever Yours, Draco_

She couldn't understand, no matter how many times she ran it over in her mind. She didn't chose Ron. Why had Draco left? Did she do something wrong? He said that she stared at the ring too long. She was surprised, that was all. She didn't mean anything by it, she thought that Ron would never forgive her. How could she not be surprised by Harry and the ring? But it had nothing to do with wanting a second chance. She didn't want that without Draco. She loved Draco. God help her, she was in love with the ferret. She was trading one rodent for another.

She laughed at that thought a stitch forming in her side. She was probably cracking up but she was laughing, no matter the seriousness of the situation she was in, she was laughing. It felt good.

She looked at her wedding bands and Ron's engagement ring she kept clasped in her hand. One elegant the other simple. Both beautiful. She left the box and its contents to return to the couch.

Draco had changed the ending of their story. It might've been for the better for him, but for her... It made it feel as though Harry and Ron were only around her to complete their task. What a stupid notion that was! Of course they were friends before there was a task! They knew of nothing of the dangers they faced, though by their fourth year it became expected. But it was all in her past. Draco was her future. She wanted more than she could describe for Harry and Ron and all of the Weasley's to be apart of it, but that was unlikely.

She did have a choice. There was Ron, her best friend, her boyfriend, the man that loved her so much that wanted to marry her. The one who'd risked his life for her and vice versa. She could be with him and keep all of her friends and the life she was meant to have. She wouldn't be fully satisfied, but she would have completed her ending.

Her other choice was Draco. Draco who called her a Mudblood for most of whatever relationship they lacked. He intentionally tried to make their lives miserable, he became a Death Eater, he watched her aunt torture her as her friends fought to save her. He tried to make up his past only to her. He deceived her, got her drunk, married her, and made her a deal, and ruined her friendships and her future. Yet... He saved her life. He made her happy.

"Hermione?"

Her eyes flung open and she sat up, reaching for her wand before seeing that it was unnecessary.

Neville bent slightly at the waist peering into her face. She looked back into his scarred one and sighed in relief. Luna was beside him smiling serenely her silver-blue eyes twinkling.

"Hi," she croaked, her voice strained and scratchy like she'd swallowed nails.

They sat on either side of her, Neville wrapping an arm over her shoulders and Luna took her hand.

"Harry told us," she said.

"We're sorry, Hermione," said Neville.

"Why are you sorry," Hermione asked. "It's my fault..."

"It's Malfoy, it's his fault."

"I shouldn't have made the deal..."

Luna nodded, "no, that wasn't the best decision." Leave it to her to be honest.

"I'm going to lose all my friends..."

"No, you won't," Neville told her strongly. "We're going to be here, Luna and I. We won't leave you. Right, Luna?"

"We can't speak for Harry and Ron of course. They are pretty mad..."

"But we aren't leaving you. Even if you love Malfoy." He wrinkled his nose. "Malfoy, really?"

Hermione choked out a laugh. "Yes, really."

"You two are an interesting pair," Luna remarked in the same tone she used for when discussing magical creatures that most of the community thought was ludicrous. "What are you going to do?"

She looked happily from Luna to Neville and sighed. "Hope that Ginny doesn't curse me when I break up with Ron."

"Do you want us there?"

"No. Draco's right, I need to do this on my own."

"We'll be here waiting for you."

"Thank you," Hermione said squeezing Luna's and Neville's hands before standing. "If I'm not back in an hour -"

"We'll come and get you," Neville said smiling.

"I'll go get showered and dressed then." She went into the hallway with new strength. She had some of her friends, she would have Neville and Luna. She could hope that her ending wouldn't be so terrible. They were there. Draco would be there.

***

The papers for their annulment laid out on the coffee table. Draco with a bottle of Fire Whiskey in one hand and a wand in the other stared at it as if it had caused him a personal wrong. Sitting on the couch he twirled it in his fingers. He considered burning the paper and let Hermione deal with the hassle of divorcing him. He also considered sending the paper to her so he could cause her no more grief.

Theo came into the room with Butterbeer and looked at Draco shaking his head in pity.

Draco didn't want pity. He knew he looked a mess. His hair was as bad as Potter's, his eyes had bags under them, and his skin was pallid. He lost a whole nights sleep wondering if she was asleep. If she was thinking about him. If she needed to be comforted.

"Damn, Draco, just send the bloody papers already."

"It's not that easy..." The decision was not easy.

"Yes it is. What, did your owl croak?"

"No it didn't croak."

"Then do it."

"I don't want the ruddy annulment, Theo."

His friend plopped down beside him rubbing his head with his free hand. "You're giving me a headache. What is it that you want? For her to come running back to you? To give up everything?"

"Yes."

"You're a selfish bastard."

"Yes I am."

"She never belonged with us."

"I know."

He leaned forward, his bottle dangling from his fingers. "You have two choices, mate. You let her go and get over it, or you can brood for the rest of your life because she didn't choose a man that tricked her into marrying him. Because that's the truth. You tricked her. She was noble to go along with the deal but now she has to pay for it. You got what you wanted. You bedded her, congratulations. Now move on."

Draco glared at him, but didn't have the will to curse him. It was true, at least most of it was. "I didn't do it to bed her. I love her."

Theo nodded. "If you love her, then let her go."

He didn't want to. He'd rather dip his head in his acid than let her go. But he had to. He had to end it all. He set his bottle and wand down on the coffee table and collected the papers. He folded them in thirds and left the house to fetch his owl in the back room.

"You're doing the right thing," Theo said to his back.

It didn't feel like the right thing. It felt like he was a failure. He had one more day in his deal with Hermione and he was quitting then. He lost. He had to face it. It was over.

***

Hermione pulled out her drawer and her heart retracted. There among the top of her clothes was Ron's ugly orange Chuddly Canon t-shirt. She picked it up holding it against her nose. She inhaled deeply. Woodsy, like a new broomstick out of its box. It smelled good, but it wasn't what she wanted to smell, not the dark musky scent she had come accustomed to.

She remembered when she gave the shirt to Ron for his birthday last year. He lit up with excitement putting it over his old one right away. He kissed her cheek and then her lips. Even though she hadn't sent him a book in ages he always seemed surprised that it wasn't one.

She laid it back in its drawer, and pulled out the next one to dress in worn jeans and a t-shirt. She had decided just then that she would give Ron the house. It was half his, she would simply give him her half. It was not like she needed the money, and it was the least she could do.

She walked back into the lounge with a slight guilty skip in her step. Neville and Luna had remained on the couch, but now they were huddled together over a short stack of papers as a Tawny brown owl hooted on the armrest.

"What is that," she asked.

Neville and Luna's heads snapped up looking immensely guilty.

"It wasn't tied, Hermione," Neville said quickly, apology in his tone. "It fell open."

"What is it," she reiterated.

"You're annulment papers," Luna answered sadly holding them out to her.

Hermione snatched them from her hands reading over the letters that ran together. It was her annulment papers. "Draco sent them?"

"Yes."

"We had one more day..."

"We're sorry, Hermione."

Her hands shook and therefore the papers shook. It was just as well, she couldn't read them. It was as though her heart was bleeding down it. It was breaking she could feel each shatter as it fell apart.

"What are you going to do," she questioned softly as if a single breath would blow her over.

"I'm going to go see Ron and tell him that I can't marry him." She threw the papers to the side table. "Then I'm going to sign those and end this marriage. It's about time." She turned away before she could see her friend's sympathetic faces. She ducked into the fireplace.

She was going to end all of this and later she would find out her ending, whether it was with Ron, with Draco, or with no one at all.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

Doing What's Best

"What are you doing here," Ginny mandated rudely. "We don't want you here!"

Hermione stood uncomfortably by the fireplace which she had just come out of. Harry sat with Ginny on the torn and weathered couch grasping her hand to keep her in her seat.

"Where's everyone," she asked Harry knowing only him would give a straight answer.

"Don't tell her, Harry," Ginny demanded.

"Stop it, Ginny," he told her gently. "Let them work this out." He jerked his head at the rickety staircase to her left. "He's up in his old room. He's been waiting for you. Molly and Arthur are visiting Muriel, Charlie went back to Romania, Percy and Bill are at work."

"Thank you, Harry." She tried to ignore Ginny's outbursts at him as she climbed the stairs.

At the top waiting for her was George. He was in his plum robes from work as if he had stopped by for only a moment. A small reassuring smile played on his lips. "It's good to see you, Hermione."

"George," she began.

"I know," he cut her off. "I know you're in love with the amazing bouncing ferret. It's all right. We can't all choose who we love. D'you think it was easy for me to be with Angelina? Fred had his eyes on her for ages."

She stopped on the last step. "I never knew that."

"No one did except me."

"You still married her, it worked out okay!"

"Yeah, because Fred is gone and he would've wanted her happy. It took me a while to see that. It'll take you a while to see what you're doing is best, but you're Hermione, everything you do is meant to be for the best of everyone. You're doing this for Ron and yourself. That's what you all deserve."

"How can you be so understanding when everyone else hates me?"

"Not everyone can be as tolerant as me," he winked. "Don't worry about them. Do what you have to. Worry about the rest later. And anyhow, I think it's right funny that you choose him of all people. Glad I didn't make a bet on it." He gestured towards Ron's door. "You'll still have me."

She laid a hand on the doorknob and smiled sadly at what would have been her brother. "Thank you, George."

"Yeah, yeah, you owe me," he said jokingly and trotted down the stairs.

Hermione inhaled a shaky breath and opened the door. Ron sat on the far left bed his back against the wall. He held something in his hands that he was glowering at before he looked up. There was a ghost of a smile on his face.

"Hi, Ron. How are you?"

"Bloody brilliant. I went to Egypt to get rid of Death Eaters - which we did if you care - then I come home all ready to propose to my girlfriend and find out in the middle of my proposal by my brother that she's married the pain in the arse from Hogwarts. Yes, I'm doing bloody brilliant. Thank you, Hermione." He closed his eyes and banged his head on the back wall.

Hermione shut the door though and took the object from his hands and set on the opposite bed. It was a picture of them. Ron was on his knees holding a box up to her, and she was crying and shaking her head, and George came striding into the frame waving his hand down at the camera. Molly must've taken it. Must've known what he was going to do.

"I didn't mean for it to happen."

"George told us. You were drunk. It was a mistake. You were upset."

"My biggest mistake was making the deal."

He cracked open an eye. "That was your biggest mistake? Hermione!" He flung himself off the bed towering over her. "You're biggest mistake was marrying him!"

"No, I don't think so," she tried to respond calmly but choked on her tears. "If I hadn't married him I would've never known I loved him. I do, I do love him. I'm sorry Ron," she wept. "I didn't mean for any of it to happen, but it did, and I can't regret it, I can't take it back, and I don't want to. I'm sorry that I've hurt all of you, especially you. I've never meant for you to be hurt. I do love you Ron, just..."

"Just not enough."

She nodded, wiping her tears on her sleeve. "Not enough."

He offered her a handkerchief, and she accepted it, dabbing her eyes blowing her nose in it.

"Keep that," he said sitting back down. "I can't believe I've lost you to ferret boy."

"It wasn't a competition."

"By hell it was! Only I didn't know about it! I would've never left if I'd known!"

She stuffed the handkerchief in her pocket catching any stray tears with the heel of her palms. "You had to go, you didn't have a choice. It's your job. You love doing it, don't you?" She remembered what Ginny said, and had to know that it wasn't all because of her.

"Yes of course I do. I get to lock up Death Eaters for a living. It's a great job."

"Good."

"So that's it then? You're going to go Malfoy and live happily ever after?"

"I don't know," she said honestly. "I'm going to go to Draco -"

He snorted at the name.

"But I'm going to get an annulment. This is going to end right here. I've had enough of games and lies. I want to start over. Whether that's with him or not I don't know."

"Is it because he has money?"

She gasped, affronted. "Is that what you think of me, Ronald Weasley?"

"I don't know you anymore."

"Yes you do!"

"The Hermione I knew would never marry Malfoy."

"I'm sorry..."

"Sorry you married him," he asked hopefully.

"No, I'm sorry that you think I could never forgive."

"He's a Death Eater -"

"Ex Death Eater -"

"And none of the things he's done to us matters anymore? You've forgotten all about it, eh, Hermione?"

"No, _Ron_, I haven't. But I've forgiven. Like I've forgiven you for being such a jerk to me all those times."

"What I've done isn't nearly -"

"Shut up," she yelled standing to her feet. Ron flinched back and she was sickeningly glad of it. "What's done is done. I love him now. I want to be your friend Ron, I want to be all of your friends, but I don't know if that's possible anymore if you can't forgive me."

He shook his head, his blue cobalt eyes watering. "I don't know..."

"Neither do I."

She waited for him to say something. Anything. But he didn't. He stayed in his fetal position staring to the wall ahead of him. She took his ring from her pocket flicking it at his feet. She faced her back to him ready to leave when he said, "I love you, Hermione Malfoy."

She smiled. "I love you too, Ronald Weasley." She turned back to him and he opened his arms. She rushed into them lying down with him, crying into his shoulder.

"Shhh," he soothed. "It'll be all right."

"You can have the house. Whatever you want."

"You?"

"No, I'm afraid I can't..."

"I don't want the house. Do whatever you want with it. I'll buy a new one."

She sniffed, "what're we going to do now?"

"You'll get your annulment, I'll get a new house and we'll move on from this."

"You won't be my friend?"

He laughed shortly. "I think we've made it pretty clear that we can't be anything less than friends. We've tried, remember? All those times..."

She did remember. They fought all the time, but they could never stay away for long. They always came back to each other. "I remember. But the others..."

"They are worried for me. They'll come around. If they don't... I'll make them."

"Thank you."

"Right..."

Late that night Hermione left the Burrow with Neville and Luna, but all of them going their own ways, all of them going home.

Ron being the supportive friend he was had come down the stairs with her and faced Ginny and Harry. He told them that it was okay - he was okay. That everything would work itself out, but her mistake was no reason to end a nine-year friendship.

Hermione smiled at him the whole time, knowing that those words were hers, the last words spoken up in the guest bedroom. She leaned into his side tiredly. All the tears she had shed had wore her.

Harry nodded at the end of his speech and hugged Hermione tightly but Ginny "humph'ed," and stormed off to the garden.

"In time," Harry had murmured in her ear.

She would give it that. She would give them all time.

She came home, her heart full of faith and anticipation. She sent her annulment papers by owl to Malfoy for him to send off to be finalized and she laid about the couch with the Daily Prophet looking for a new house to begin her new future.

She determined that she would see Malfoy. After their annulment was final. She would go back to him eventually and ask him why he no longer wanted her. It hurt, an aching in her chest, but she wouldn't let it ruin her day. She got what she wanted. Her annulment and her friends. She would be happy. Ron and her was right, everything would work itself out in the end.

***

Draco tossed his fifth Fire Whiskey into the corner. He slumped on the couch. He had drunk himself into a stupid stupor, all to avoid the face that flashed behind his lids. So he wouldn't have to feel anything.

He waved his wand and another drink flew to him from the kitchen. He popped open the cap with his hand, cutting it up, bleeding down his arm but he didn't feel it. He didn't feel anything anymore. He was numb from the inside and out, but he knew that the hole in his chest was still there. He just couldn't care. He had achieved what he wanted from the time he commenced drinking.

Theo came in and laid a small stack of papers on the coffee table. "She signed," he said, and he walked out leaving him to his misery.

Draco leaned forward and saw blearily that she had, her neat and lovely penmanship ending his dream, his desires, ending him.

Losing his balance he fell on the floor. He laid on his back. It should have hurt, perhaps his elbow or the knee that banged against the table. Nothing hurt. He took another drink.

It was official. He lost everything he'd hope for. Instead of ripping out their ending, he'd only ripped out his.

Theo was right. She didn't belong with them. He should've never tried to rewrite their sad fairytale.

"A toast," he herald to no one, slurring his words. "To the future Mrs. Weasley. May they have eight ginger kids with buck teeth. Cheer."

The sun's rays seeped through the windows and he shut his eyes tight but it was to no avail, he felt the stabbing pains in his head. He groaned and rolled over burying his face into the hardwood floor seeing something orange streak past him, the soft brush of Drake's tail over his face.

Then something occurred to him. Something quite amazing.

Their deal was over. They were no longer married. It was the last day, and he had an idea. Maybe it was his drunken mind coming up with inane schemes, but he wasn't going to give up just yet. Once more... He would try once more... And he would do it right this time... All he had to do was get sober.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

How Much

It was thanks to a tonic Theo brewed up at the last minute that Draco was able to see, think and walk straight. He was glad he told his idea to his friend, because once the tonic touched his tongue he forgot about his plan instantly. Theo was always good in Potions and was a good friend to have told him of his stupid intent he had when he was drunk.

He knew he should have given up. It was over. Their marriage ended the moment she signed those papers, and Draco had sent them off for them to be filed away in a dusty drawer in an even dirtier building. But because their marriage was over didn't mean that they had to be. Not yet. This was the last day of their deal and despite that he knew the deal was void he was willing to take the one day he had and turn things around.

He dressed in his best black slacks and silk button-up shirt. Drake watched from the bed, his tail swishing back and forth. Draco scooped him up in one arm and hoped that Hermione hadn't closed of their Floo connections but when he stepped through to the overly neat lounge, he saw that she hadn't. That was a good omen, right? If she had been desperate to get rid of him she would've closed it immediately.

The lounge changed drastically. The pictures that he left for her under the floorboard in the guest room was still not up. Neither his nor the Weasel's flowers were in place, instead the vases were filled with sunflowers.

He waited by the fireplace listening intently for any sounds that she was in the house, Drake seeming to do the same his one ear perked forward, but then she walked through from the kitchen, a green flowered cup of tea in her hand. She jumped back, and it spilled, splattering to the floor.

"Draco! What're you doing here?!"

"Sorry," he apologized whipping out his wand and cleaning up the mess he'd made by startling her, the tea gone, the cups fixed.

She sighed and rolled her eyes but a flicker of a smile crossed her. "You brought Drake," she said cheerily as she knelt to pick up the tea and set it on the side table of the couch. She was too calm, too accepting. It worried him. Maybe he was too late.

"Yeah..." He let Drake pounce to the floor and run over to sweep his body across Hermione's ankles.

She bent and stroked him, but as he heard something in the far room he took off in a streak of orange. She stood her arms folding over her chest. "What is it you want? I signed the papers."

"I saw. I sent them off. We're officially annulled." _Over. Done. Finite._

"Then why are you here?"

Honesty was the best policy right? He would find out. "Because I didn't want it to be over."

She raised a quizzical brow. "You're the one who sent the papers."

He sighed. He didn't want to have this conversation. He wanted to skip ahead to what he planned, but this conversation was crucial. She had to know how much she meant to him - would always mean to him.

"To let you know you had a choice. You signed them. I figured you've made your choice." He glanced at her left hand expecting to see the Weasel's engagement ring on her finger, but her fingers were bare.

"I told Ron it was best to be friends," she said before rising to her feet. She reached into her pocket and withdrew her closed fist. She took his hand and like Harry had done to her only two days ago, she pushed something into his palm.

He felt it before he saw it. His grandparents rings. The rings he'd given to her. "You're giving them back?"

"It's only right. They're not mine anymore. I suppose they were only loaners."

He nodded. "True." He dropped them in his pocket. They were the least of his worries, but it was all part of the plan. He needed those rings back.

She waved her hand at the fireplace as she returned to her place on the couch. "Feel free to show yourself out. You knew the way in."

Did she sound bitter? He hoped so. If she had any sort of feelings for him, even those that were low, he would take them. It meant that she felt _something_ for him, that she was hurting too.

Rather than leave like she suggested, he walked over and sat next to her. He took the cup from her and set it down. He twisted his body to hers and seized her hands. Perplexed she stared at him.

It was time to know the truth, to dot the 'i's and cross the 't's. It was time to finish what he started at the ball. "Do you love me, Hermione? Did you mean what you said in the pond?"

"I'm not you, Draco, I'm not a liar."

He smiled at the use of his first name and that she had insulted him. That was the Hermione he knew.

"Did you ever love me, or was I some sort of conquest that you _won_." She said the last word with distaste.

He had a feeling that she would see it that way. His smile widened. "I have loved you for quite a long time. I have tortured myself over my imagination of having you. I love you. I love you more than anyone because I was willing to give you up, to let you live your life as you pleased with whoever you want. I loved you enough to sign those papers and send them to you. All this was out of my love for you. Now I need to know how much you love me. How much, Hermione?"

She inhaled a shaky breath observing his features as though they would give away something he was hiding. "I love you enough to risk giving up my friends and family. I've loved you enough to get on a broom and _fly _across an ocean full of sharks!" He chuckled but she went on. "How can you even think that I _don't_ love you?"

He pulled his grandmother's ring from his pocket again. "Tell me, Hermione, do you love me this much?"

Tears brimmed her eyes, but she was beaming and Draco knew that they were tears of happiness. She nodded vigorously. "Yes."

He took her hand, and once again slid the ring on the intended finger. They both knew it would stay there for the rest of her life.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the shortness of this last chapter. I didn't feel the need to say more.

Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed! It is very much appreciated!

If you keep up with Anlynne's Quill you know that this will be my last Harry Potter fan-fiction for a while. There is not another one written and I don't plan on one anytime soon. I do have another fan-fiction story that will be posted soon.


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